Legacy
by Shadowmistress13
Summary: Walburga Black prided herself on being a woman of excellent breeding, taste, and talent. Thirty and unmarried, she decides if she wasn't fated for a husband and home, then she'd have glory instead. Pity her cousin didn't see the brilliance of her plan for entering a tournament. But he was a stupid, silly, flirt anyways. He couldn't duel his way out of a paper bag.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

 **AN:** The story idea that just. Wouldn't. Go. Away. Even though I have tons of other stories to complete. None are abandoned. None. And I'm just going to throw out there that first-cousin marriage in the U.K. (and half the U.S.) is legal, so second-cousin marriage isn't quite the shocker Rowling would have us believe.

Soooo, here we are. This takes place in the same universe as _Foreshadowing Demise_ and pretty much most of my other HP fics. I'm curious to see how well you guys receive this one.

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 **Chapter 1: A Reckoning**

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Walburga Black was determined not to blush. It was precisely what Druella would want and she wouldn't give that dreadful woman such satisfaction.

What had her brother, Cygnus, been thinking, marrying her? A Rosier...it was...it was so like a Rosier to do this.

Honestly, inviting her over and then abandoning her in the parlor after setting this book in her lap and simpering that someone like Walburga might find it "instructive."

Well, she'd turn the tables on her soon enough. The cow...

She would read a chapter of the filthy thing and discuss it with her. As clinically as possible and let _her_ be the embarrassed party.

"Wonders never cease. I would never have imagined you to have an interest in such...stimulating reading material," her cousin chuckled when he arrived, reading the book's cover and sitting down beside her on the settee.

As Orion had never had a mind for personal boundaries, it didn't much surprise her when his leg pressed against hers and he leaned more intimately into her arm for a view of the pages she was reading.

He hummed appreciatively at the illustrations and she felt her nerve start to flag and heat began rising into her face.

"You know?" he continued conversationally—leaning closer and giving her a strong whiff of his cologne. "You might find a veteran's account of these-" He gestured to the pictures. "-more helpful and I'd be happy to assis-"

Defeated. She closed the book and set it hard on Orion's lap.

Fine. Druella won that round. Though she'd been unknowingly abetted.

Orion chuckled again and began perusing the pages leisurely, pausing here and there with more sighs of appreciation. He waggled his eyebrows at her.

The pervert.

Druella returned with a house elf who was bearing a large tray of necessary items for their tea time.

Walburga noticed with some pleasure that it was the set she'd given her youngest brother and his wife as a wedding gift. Strong but lovely. It had to be able to survive her brother's using of it. He wasn't always the most graceful creature and his tendency to add rum into his tea didn't help. And then there was Druella. If it wasn't pleasing to the eye, it'd be in storage for ages. Only brought out if some sort of catastrophe made it necessary.

Walburga added more sugar to her beverage and sipped at her cup as topics of the Ministry gave way to more local details. Do you know so-and-so? Well, they're getting married. How about what's-her-name? Expecting in June, so I hear. Over and again. Rinse. Repeat.

Any outward sign of interest or distress would only invite more announcements, so she arranged her face into bored resignation.

Unable to get a rise out of her that way, the blonde began making multiple gestures and allusions that became increasingly less subtle, as a signal that she wanted Walburga to comment on the woman's pregnancy. Druella and Cygnus were expecting their third child. No doubt hoping for a son at last. Then they'd be able to wrestle away the title of heir from Alphard, who had no children and no wife (so no likelihood of securing the spot of patriarch for the Black family household). Their triumph was nearly complete.

Well, she wouldn't do it. She spoke about the weather instead...with an intense focus, not unlike passion, until the other woman's nostrils flared.

Orion gave her several looks through this exchange. The first being quizzical. The second being exasperation. The third being irritation when he realized she simply wasn't going to indulge their relation by marriage. He then interrupted her forecast of the week to abruptly make inquiry into the pregnancy, a subject which the woman was only too delighted to divest details about.

* * *

Walburga made use of the stairway rail and her companion's arm as she made her way to the Ministry of Magic; though it meant she couldn't maneuver her long skirts as gracefully as she'd liked and Orion had already tread on her hem twice.

Still, at least it kept her hands busy and none of the paper boys or town vendors could shove any pamphlets her way, many of which demanded better pay for services rendered by mudbloods and the like.

It was so like them to want to bypass the centuries of hard work produced by old families like hers to attain the stations they had now. As if their wealth had simply rained unfairly from the sky one day. If it looked as though they stood on mountains, it was because they balanced on the bodies of generations. The roots of their family tree ran deep and the branches stretched high because of time and dedication. Watered by blood, sweat, and tears was how it became so grand.

These newcomers were like loose leaves desperate to reach great heights. A gust might keep them there a moment but when they crashed down they were surlier than before and were loud when they crunched underfoot.

Worse, they wore this self-righteous, suffering look as they went about or when they dared approach, seeking her out based on the richness of the fabrics she wore to be their patron. Like galleons would just eek out of the bustle and ruffles if they stood near enough.

Thankfully, her cousin shielded her from them this visit.

It was more his frame than his face that intimidated them. He was a strapping man to be sure, but he was terribly handsome with a smooth jaw and pleasant resting expression that gave away his agreeableness.

She envied him a bit on that last account. If she didn't take care to be aware of her features, she'd often fall into a look of mild vexation. Like she'd nibbled something sour but wasn't willing to return the dish and insult her host. Though of course, she was exposed to far more insipid conversations than he on a regular basis, since it was expected of her to accept invitations to various parlors and inquire within...and endure the result. So, she liked to think it might be that.

Why if these street peddlers knew them better they'd know who was all bark and who was all bite. And who was the real one to fear. Why, they would cease their attentions to her forever.

Orion had insisted on accompanying her when she relayed her intention to visit on behalf of her father.

Pollux needed her to pick up papers of some sort and was unwilling to venture out himself. Being somewhat of a misanthrope, and generally unpleasant when he made the visit himself, the staff of the office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures were always careful not to comment on the oddity of her coming alone.

She found it amusing and annoying at turns.

Honestly, women had been given the vote some time ago. The idea of a witch travelling on her own shouldn't have been quite so shocking.

Though...perhaps it was because she was one of the last old families...known for their adherence to tradition...that her, well, modernity was a cause for raised eyebrows. And she still felt many eyes on her as she passed through the halls to the correct division, even with Orion on her arm.

Unfortunately, the office denizens made the mistake of greeting her too familiarly and Orion was instantly suspicious.

"Do you come here often?"

"Father hates coming here." And she didn't.

Often, getting to come into London was wonderfully liberating and she liked hearing the sounds of her high heels on civilized, marble floors and even pavement. Since Alphard took full residence in Grimmauld Place, and Cygnus had married and moved out to Black Moor, she'd been forced to leave with Father for Black Manor, which was so far removed in the countryside that she often felt it may as well have been the edge of the world.

In one fell move of geography, it pretty well removed even the potential of suitors coming to call on her.

And in so doing forced a reckoning: the end of one footpath of life had come for her.

Thirteen years had passed since she graduated Hogwarts' halls.

No offers of marriage were made.

She was officially a spinster and as far as she could make out her future, her fate seemed likely to involve continually running errands for her aging father until his natural end.

It was a cautionary tale she'd probably share in the next two decades with Bellatrix and Andromeda when they were of age.

Not to be assured that their looks or position would be enough.

Somehow, she'd always assumed her beauty, her family name, and the power of her wandwork would've pleased any future husband…

Alas...

As she'd been warned repeatedly, her temperament was too harsh, her interests too unfeminine, her attentions too abrasive.

As her mother had sneered at her daughter, before she thankfully passed from the world and out of Walburga's life, " _There's no softness in you. I could call you a son and no one would wonder at it."_

"Why not send Alphard?" Orion asked shortly.

Like he was determined to be displeased, which was unusual for him.

"I'm certain he's busy with his own enterprises. As is Cygnus. I don't mind." She enjoyed the liveliness of the city, even if she didn't approve of all the inhabitants cluttering it.

"...how often does he send you?" he pressed.

"I was unaware we needed your permission, Cousin?" She remarked, cutting to the chase.

He frowned and struggled to articulate his feelings, "Just seems...untoward, letting a daughter out...alone-"

She felt a smile pull her lips, "Unchaperoned?"

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose but didn't comment further.

Deciding he deserved a good teasing, she fluttered her lashes. "I promise, I'm not nearly as adventurous as you."

He ought to have shrugged and conceded that yes, there was a great double standard between them. Because his indiscretions were well known and the foundation of more than one spectacle involving angry, protective relatives seeking revenge for jilted daughters or sisters or the like. Why, they happened with such frequency, that not having one occur at a public venue for several months felt almost ominous.

Or perhaps, he should have given her that easy, lazy smile he often gave when he didn't want to argue but didn't want to side with her either.

So she was a little taken aback, when his gray eyes gave her a hard look. "If it's a weekly occurrence, you really should have someone with you. Some riffraff observer could learn to expect you and cause trouble."

That brought forth several fantasies and after dismissing four that involved rescue because she just couldn't imagine herself standing idly by, she settled on one and half hoped it would happen. She envisioned that she would be approached by some unscrupulous character. She would then dispatch said rogue with a well-aimed spell, draw attention to herself with a flattering newspiece hailing her nerve and skill, and perhaps a Pureblood reader with excellent judgment would fall so madly in love with her through the article that he'd propose—

"If you endeared yourself to Druella or her family or-or even Luca..er, Lucretia, you could travel more safely."

"So what I am hearing is...you won't always be present to deliver me unaccosted?"

He frowned again, "Is it usually this day of the week?"

She rolled her eyes and then studied a manicured hand. She should've worn gloves, her skin looked dry. "I'm joking, Orrie."

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

She craned a look up at him and arched a dark eyebrow. "Why?"

His lips curled back and he gritted through his teeth. "Because I hate it. It's infantile."

He'd never expressed such an aversion to it before.

"You still call Lucretia, Luca. And I know she still calls you Rye, with impunity, why can't I have Or-"

"She's my sister."

Walburga smiled meanly, "But you're my baby cousin. I should have rights to some kind of pet name for you."

"Am I allowed the same?" he asked with a sharp-toothed grin.

She snickered, "You could try. We both know my name doesn't lend itself to such a thing...but you could try. I probably won't answer though, should you call it in a crowded street."

Walberga accepted a folder containing papers for her father and the two departed. Had her companion not insisted on a carriage, she would've just apparated to the gate of her father's estate (his paranoia made apparating directly into the premises an impossibility), but Orion could be inflexibly traditional in some matters.

As the carriage bumped along at magically enhanced speed, she took off her hat, because the pins holding it on were bothering her, and it was only Orion sitting across from her.

There was a certain margin of impropriety they allowed for when it came to each other.

Why, if there wasn't, he'd have never come to her rescue that summer Cygnus had sown coins into her petticoats without her knowing and then set nifflers on her. It had been at one of her aunt's garden parties. She'd been seventeen then and if her thirteen year old cousin had been more prudish, there was no telling how she might've injured herself during her panic trying to deal with those horrid creatures alone.

And she'd lost track of the amount of times she'd been in Orion's bedroom helping him decide what robes and suits to wear for various occasions of business and pleasure. He didn't have any modesty about changing from one outfit to another in front of her, either.

For a long while, he'd been young and it had been innocent and then...quite suddenly, or so it seemed, he was grown and the habit was too established to fix.

"Would it be so terrible to indulge Druella?" he sighed in exasperation as he smoothed the lapels of his suit and fixed his cloak to lie better on his shoulders. "She wants to impress you."

So he was back to that again.

He just didn't understand the way women did battle.

"For God's sake, Wal...er Wally? Walla?" His solemn expression struggled against a smile that sought to undo his tone and air.

She straightened a twisted earring and looked at him, amused. "I told you. It. Doesn't. Work. Not with my name."

"For God's sake, _woman_ , she's expecting. Have kindness for her if you can. Or pity if you can't."

While he waxed on about the necessity of her having female allies, if not friends, since Walburga just couldn't seem to keep any and he'd accepted that as a moot point, she noticed a corner of a paper sticking out from his pocket.

She cut his scolding short with, "What have you there?"

"Oh," he shrugged. "Some bloke...handing out fliers when we were walking-"

"May I see it?" The word "duel" had caught her eye and a sudden inexplicable sense of excitement had flooded her.

He handed it over and she smoothed it out, drinking in its contents with her eyes.

It promoted the annual tournament held by the British Wizard Dueling Association.

He tapped it with a finger. "You know? I watched last year's with Cygnus and Parkinson. Emilia? Remember her? We were uh...yes, well, that uh, that didn't work out. I mean, we had some good times before then of course...but...she made it clear she wanted to be there with me...don't think she realized how...er...violent the tournament can get. Well, after that it was all...spoiled and she thought us rather brutish for enjoying such a sport. Bleeding heart, who'd have thought? But...I think...I think you would enjoy it though. I could see about securing us a...well...a more suitable spot than where we were last..."

She nodded absently.

They were looking for contestants.

Now, that was an idea.

She thought longingly to her schooldays where she'd been a co-captain of the Slytherin Dueling Team.

Captain Black…

She sighed...well, maybe she was romanticizing it a bit.

She'd been known more commonly and infamously as, Captain BattleAxe Black.

Nonetheless, she'd been very gifted at dueling. Always had. She'd lost track of the number of times her brothers insisted on her being their second during their schooldays. Her, rather than each other. And sometimes, merely hearing that it was her accompanying them was enough to dissuade her brothers' rivals from showing up at all.

The flier didn't say that witches weren't allowed to participate. Probably frowned upon, but not barred. A visit to Abraxas Malfoy could confirm it or secure him in supporting her cause by the wording of the document. He was good with those sorts of legal things and he owed her. She'd endured a long dinner party last month with his wife where all she could talk about for nearly three hours was her precious Lucius.

Granted, he was a pretty child. But Walburga learned entirely too much about the toddler's bodily functions and wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look him in the eye once he was an adult—having been privy to potty training tales of terror.

The carriage slowed to a stop.

She gathered the folder for her father—making sure it was right and ordered. Because anything besides perfection ruffled him.

"I'll walk you up, shall I?" Orion offered gallantly, descending from the carriage and lifting a hand to assist her in exiting also.

It was nice to be remembered. Since Cygnus had been married, he often forgot about assisting her out of carriages or holding the door for her in favor of his wife.

Which she understood of course, it was right and natural for him to be more concerned about...Druella...but it was rather embarrassing to have a door shut in her face despite being part of his party when they entered a ball or event!

She hated Druella's smug smirk even more whenever this happened.

Walburga tried to drag Alphard to such things whenever she could because he at least remembered to perform those little delicacies when they were in a public space, but he'd inherited much of their father's distaste for galas...and whenever she did succeed in taking him out for an evening, he was disapproving and depressing...which often sunk her mood and ruined the festivities for her.

While she was certain her cousin, Orion, would remember her, despite usually having a date of his own to entertain, she never asked to share his carriage on such nights out. She just wasn't ready to subject herself as a witness to sordid interactions between him and a paramour in such a confined space.

Perhaps, it _would_ be helpful to drum up a more friendly acquaintance with Luca and her husband, for matters of transportation at least.

It wasn't as though they were on bad terms. They were the same age and had shared a Slytherin dormitory for seven years. Perhaps, they weren't bosom friends but they knew enough of the other to be able to tolerate spells of time together...and they were family. She should be able to count on her for something. And it wouldn't be terrible to be called on for favors in return, it would at least get her out of her father's house. So she wouldn't be trapped there collecting dust like his collection of taxidermied mythical creatures.

She folded the flier and slipped it into her purse. "You needn't trouble yourself more on my account. I daresay I've squandered enough of your afternoon from you."

"No. I was just saying to myself, now, which family member would least like to see me?"

She laughed in spite of herself. Because Pollux hated guests. Even when they were relations.

"I know!" he crowed, "I think I'll stay for dinner!"

She shook her head while he dismissed the carriage driver. "You're a brave man, to court his wrath purposely."

He shrugged goodnaturedly, "Good practice, I think."

"Why? You think you'll face down a manticore some time in the immediate future?"

He didn't reply, just smiled.

Arm in arm they made their way up the steep incline leading to Black Manor.

A tournament…

If she entered and placed well…

She might make a habit of it.

Might make a name for herself.

Some witches traveled the world, like Bathilda Bagshot, and wrote books. It was a new age. That was acceptable now.

Walburga knew she didn't have the right skillset for that but...that wasn't to say she couldn't fashion some sort of career for herself.

Plenty of women gave lessons on singing or dancing...perhaps, she'd see if dueling was a sought after skill.

It really ought to be part of a curriculum for summer finishing schools.

"Your mood seems improved," Orion observed with a smile.

"Yes, I feel...I feel…"

His grey eyes watched her expectantly.

"As much," she finished lamely.

She found she was not quite willing to impart the reason for her joy.

Lest he kill it stone dead with an incredulous look. Or bring it up to Pollux over dinner and let him be the one to execute it. There was nothing like weeding out a dream that gave her father sadistic pleasure.

No.

Nononono.

She'd enter and then let him know. After she knew the proper way to articulate her reasons for participating. Of course.

She was certain he'd support her. Eventually.

Orion had always been terribly fond of her since they were children. A tagalong since he could walk. And rather than be irritated by his near constant presence, she came to enjoy it. Though his being four years younger was sometimes an impediment to how much he understood when she made jokes or complaints. He was so different from her brothers. So much more agreeable. And whenever her mother or aunts banished her to play in a child-sized kitchen and parlor house with dolls (instead of letting her do battle with the boys with wooden swords and shields and a dragon dummy), Orion would follow her into exile.

In school, he'd often had her back, playing look out for her when she dueled classmates that dared insult their family. And he was rather good with enchantments and hexes, a talent she found employment for against various enemies.

The dynamic hadn't really changed since they'd entered adulthood. Though, she would readily admit he now had far more misadventures than her. (And she wasn't sure if it was good or bad that he took care not to involve her in them.) Still, whenever she announced a desire to venture out to Knockturn Alley (regardless of which relative she told), she always found herself accompanied on the outset or followed and caught up by her kinsman.

She gave his arm a playful squeeze, "I don't think he'll send you right off. But I do expect him to be cross, as that is his normal condition. You've brought down a dismal evening upon yourself, Orrie."

He sighed tiredly and gave her a firm frown, "I'm twenty-six years old, Walburga. Do I look like an Orrie to you?"

She laughed.

And was surprised when he didn't join in.

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Read & Review Please : D


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

 **AN:** Hey there, let's see if uploading this chap goes smoother. Because...wow...the first was like the disappearing reappearing cabinet.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Bagshot Nonsense**

* * *

Walburga followed the train of Lucretia's dark blue dress along the carpet runner leading to the MacNairs' ballroom. She had to admit their hosts had outdone themselves. She admired the floral arrangements on either side of the hall; roses, hydrangeas, and Bella Donna Delphinium made for lovely, fragrant displays.

She was happy to break up the monotony of her calendar with an event like this. Father had scoffed at the invitation, but he didn't make any fuss over her attending. For the most part, he let her come and go as she pleased.

Walburga made surreptitious glances to her reflection in a large ornate mirror—assuring herself that her makeup was immaculate, her hair twisted into a pleasingly intricate coil spangled with jeweled pins, that her neckline emphasized the ampleness of certain aspects of her shape without being distasteful .

It was a favorite dress of hers; satin green and comfortable but flattering and...though it would sound absurd to say aloud...lucky.

And she needed that tonight.

Already, Ignatius Prewett, Lucretia's husband, had done precious little to disguise his dislike of her sharing their carriage with them. He'd remarked rather grumpily, that Orion's carriage could've borne her more easily; for it was only carrying one occupant.

She'd admitted to her cousin-in-law that she hadn't known Orion was coming alone this night. Unwilling to endure another hostile carriage ride, she even entertained the notion of asking Orion to take her home when the party's excitement waned (she was nervous to apparate in her finery and lose jewelry along the way, but...judging by the eyes he was making at Georgina Flint as the two downed champagne and laughed with one another, he wouldn't be leaving alone. And asking him for a kindness could very well annoy him.

He'd already started accompanying her for her weekly trips to the Ministry on her father's behalf. She didn't want to seem too terribly needy.

It was important to give space when one could afford to. While she was certain he'd honor her request as family, she didn't want to spoil their friendship by demanding too much of him and so soon.

She delighted in the ice sculptures cradled in each crystalline punch bowl and indulged in an hors d'oeuvre or three and saw Lucretia do the same.

This ball had been set at a late hour, signifying that meals were meant to be eaten beforehand, but her cousin's husband couldn't be troubled to take them out to dine first.

She didn't envy Lucretia...having to deal with that on a regular basis. Walburga was a creature that craved luxury, just thinking about a life where every purchase was a battle...

She wondered at how Ignatius had managed to woo her cousin at all; was it all sunset walks and meadow flowers because the purse strings wouldn't open?

Though the pool of eligible men had dwindled she was pleased to have a fair amount of dance partners in the form of old schoolmates through the night. Some were already spoken for, but some were not.

She danced the minuet with Avery, married. The allemande with Crabbe, engaged. But he had a bachelor cousin who'd made his introductions and as they whirled around, he didn't seem too terrible, though his nose was unfortunately long and thin, flute like...and it gave him a nasally sound whenever he spoke. His manners were very good though. However, he was a halfblood so she couldn't dwell on him; her family would never approve. And he just...wasn't very handsome so she didn't really mind that it couldn't be a match.

Between dances and sometimes during them, she glimpsed her cousin growing increasingly reckless and a harem of admirers seemed to be forming. He never guarded his tongue especially well when he was inebriated and compliments for their... _physical_ attributes were likely flowing quite freely from him.

She'd need to scold him soon before he made himself hopelessly ridiculous.

Whilst waltzing with Abraxas, because his wife was busy initiating a new mother to a circle of ladies who prided themselves on their fecundity (so single, childless Walburga wasn't really welcome), they spoke about the contest freely.

"So you mean to go through with it?" he murmured, lips pulling into that mocking smile she knew well.

Her lips curved. "I should be asking you that. You've far more at risk than I."

He had the decency to look a little chagrined at that but shrugged it off.

She couldn't tell if it was wistfulness or resignation she felt as they twirled with a grace unique to them. They were two personalities and spirits that were well-matched.

At school, there'd even been a rhyme about them, for they'd often been in each other's company, having similar humors and temperaments.

 _Pitch night and winter frost, and each you'll find are cold and harsh._

She held in the sigh.

It was stupid to have put so much into a childhood promise. But at twelve, Abraxas, in that blunt 'I'll-fix-this-if-it-will-stop-your-complaints' way that males embraced...had promised to marry her...and she'd believed him.

And having that great source of doom and anxiety triumphed over was such a relief, she'd never dedicated time to polishing herself up like her other female relations. Certain that she'd prove her mother's concerns false when they stood at the altar, it never crossed her mind to think he'd renege and that she ought to have developed her womanly wiles.

She wasn't enough as she was. She knew that now.

She understood that Obsidia was younger, charming, less obstinate, and all in all easier on his ego to deal with but...

He'd promised.

It wasn't even that Walbura imagined married life as a Malfoy to be particularly happy. She and Abraxas could clash like pieces of flint. But they understood one another and he'd never expected her to be anything other than what she was.

She'd seen him with his wife acting far more gentle than he'd ever been with her in his life. And rather than swooning at such sights, she shivered at the insincerity. It was clear from his ice blue eyes that poor Obsidia often bored him and he didn't respect her.

And Walburga couldn't muster any envy.

The song ended and another tune was struck up by the band, this time for the Varsouvienne.

"You always dance this with me," Orion declared, suddenly close.

"So I do," she agreed and exchanged partners, pleased he'd managed to extricate himself from what would've been a brewing scandal if he'd committed himself to enjoying all those ladies' attentions for the whole night.

He was coordinated enough to remember all the steps but alcohol had robbed him of that certain joie de vivre that made his movements light and elegant and playful.

He was much coarser than usual. The footfalls harder and the hand on her waist heavy and firm. There was also a briskness and power in how he directed her to follow him. It was important to keep up if they were to move smoothly across the dance floor.

It wasn't malicious though. He never pulled her forth or trod on her feet or anything like that.

And soon enough she was smiling through the turns. She'd always preferred him for this dance above all others. He just had the right energy and spirit for it. The few times she'd tried it with her brothers they tired before the end.

While she did have to lean her head back uncomfortably to make eye contact, it was worth the effort; he was very handsome. And he'd dressed himself well in a nicely tailored black suit and robes. She was pleased with him.

Only...

"I do wish you hadn't indulged yourself, quite so fully. People will talk."

"Yes, _Maman_ ," his features settled into a frown.

"Well, you reek of alcohol, now, _dear_."

"That isn't...Georgina spilled a bit on me. That's probably why-"

Walburga moved closer during a turn, draping an arm around his shoulders more fully. "You see how near I have to be to catch your cologne?"

He adjusted his hold on her accordingly, keeping her there. They spun faster.

"Orion Black, I swear if I trip and fall-"

"I'll catch you. Better, I'll carry you for a spin. _That'll_ make for a scandal and get people talking. I'll show you how it's done." He smiled mischievously and pulled her nearer.

If she breathed too deeply their chests met.

"Don't you dare-"

"It'll be fun," his breath puffed past a curl by her ear.

"Orion, I am perfectly serious. I'm certain everyone's staring by now and thinking us positively bizarre."

"Black!"

They startled to a stop and she bumped into his chest. He held her there to steady her.

"Black!"

They both turned to the addresser.

He seemed vaguely familiar. Halfblood maybe? Ravenclaw?

"You ruined her!"

Orion stared at him, nonplussed.

Oh dear. Another one. She'd been wondering if this would happen.

"You ruined her, you fiend!"

And it seemed Orion wasn't in the mood to be delicate, for he scoffed, "If I ruined her, whoever her is, it was likely that she begged me to do so. And I must've been feeling charitable. Or lagered. Or both."

Which wasn't the proper thing to say at all, but she'd make her disapproval known later. Right now, she needed to side with her kinsman.

She moved herself out of his arms and by his side.

She waited for the inevitable declaration that a duel would follow on the morrow and resigned herself to Orion appearing on her doorstep later in the afternoon, bruised and somewhat chastised but cheerful. From what her brothers told her, since they were often the ones he asked to back him, there'd been more than one bout where both primary duelists knocked one another out and the next round had to be fought by one of them to determine a victory.

Now that she thought of it, it was odd that he never asked her aid in such matters. Before, she'd been relieved and would've accounted it toward his being sensitive of her nerves and her delicacy as the fairer sex...but now...well, now, it seemed like good practice that she hadn't been able to take advantage of.

"I'm his second," she volunteered. "Who's yours?"

Orion choked. "Wot? What're you-"

"If you care to recall, I'm an accomplished due-"

"No. That's absurd. Now, get back."

A flicker of movement caught her eye and she realized their enemy's wand was out and he had no sense of decorum. Not even caring that his foe's eyes weren't on him.

Coward.

She reached for her wand, which she had tucked in her left evening glove. "Orion, watch o-"

Rather than move himself, he squandered the moment to push her fully out of the way and opened himself to an even worse hit.

The halfblood hadn't even been aiming at her.

Idiot. Chivalrous idiot.

There were two cries of "Expelliarmus!" One from her, from her spot on the floor. One from Abraxas, over by the punch bowl. And the man was hurled hard across the room.

Abraxas collected the wand and gave pursuit.

Walburga focused on tending Orion, who was in a very bad way.

Honestly people, the screams that arose at his condition weren't helpful at all.

The spell had been a cruel one; there was a deep gash from his chest to his neck.

The halfblood had probably been aiming to just injure him in the shoulder, but his target's moving had worsened the result.

And since it was Orion's life shooting and spilling from him, there just wasn't the luxury of being squeamish.

She had to staunch the flow one way or another if he was to survive. So she ignored how it coated her hands and arms and splattered over her face as she ordered bystanders to find a healer and towels.

If she could ignore the taste and feel and horror, than they could make themselves useful.

"Walburga," he breathed raggedly.

She did him the service of looking at him, despite the mess, and not reacting.

"Shh," She had to press hard against the wound to staunch the flow and she knew she was hurting him from the grimace on his face. But it had to be done.

"W-walburga…" he spluttered.

He looked so afraid.

"Shhhhh," she repeated.

"I...I want you...to-to know…"

She could see Healer Macmillan approaching. Thank God.

He gripped her. "Wal...burga...I-"

"Shut up and let me concentrate," she hissed, which seemed to work on him.

He made no further attempt at conversation and stared at her in a kind of downcast stupor.

* * *

Walburga entered her cousin's bedroom with a measured step. It was nearly a week since the ball and three days since he'd been given leave to convalesce in the comforts of his home.

"Come to see me at last? Nothing more pressing to attend to? Are you quite certain?" he snarled from his bed.

"I'm on my way to the Ministry for Father and thought I'd step in to check on you," she replied coolly.

"On the way? On the-Soooo glad you could squeeze me into your busy schedule, mademoiselle. You'd think you'd have more pity!"

"You think you'd be more grateful," she countered.

"Grateful! When it was you that distracted me?!"

That angered her more than she liked to admit.

"If you'd like me gone, I'll oblige you and-"

"No. Accio chair."

She nodded and took it up and sat down beside his bed, pulling books out of her handbag.

He fiddled with a cord and tassel hanging from his four poster bed. "I thought...I thought you would have come to see me. Given how...that night...you..."

It was too embarrassing to say she tried three times and failed. Once, when she readied herself in her room. Once, in the threshold in front of her father no less. And once, which was most humiliating of all, in front of the counter of Mungo's. She hadn't even been able to ask what room he was in.

She wasn't that lucky breed of woman who was beautiful when she cried, so when she knew she couldn't master herself, she limited her contact with the outside world as needed.

"Well, I'm here now." She cracked open a book of chronicles by their ancestors during the Dark Ages. But he didn't appreciate it. Even though it was her go-to reading material for whenever she was ill, and he'd read segments of it to her one holiday break when she'd spent too much time outdoors and caught a bitter case of pneumonia.

She was a little disappointed; she'd assumed they had similar tastes.

"Fine." She changed material.

He didn't restrain his derision.

"Bathilda Bagshot? Oh, you must be joking. I graduated Hogwarts, thank you. I never have to read her works again. Praise the lord."

Walburga frowned. "I find her admirable."

He gave her a flat look, "Oh?"

"Yes."

"Her books so fascinate you? The table of contents leaves you dazzled? O what appendices? What wondrous introductions and work problems and-"

"She's leading a very interesting life. No husband. No children, true. But successful. Venerated even. She's proof we've entered different times. Where...where a woman might choose...differently...and be celebrated for it."

He stared and then he swallowed hard—adam's apple bobbing noticeably, as if her words had made him frightfully uncomfortable. He was very old-fashioned. It was probably cruel to have shocked him with such radical ideas, especially whilst he was recovering.

"And you...you find this...an admirable….influence on you?"

She nodded.

His eyes went wide as saucers.

She was about to apologize for springing such things on him when he said, in a very low voice, "But...I...It is...my wish to be married-"

Trust him, to miss the point entirely.

She frowned. "Well, of course you do, but there's less rush or condemnation on your decision. You have a wealth of possibilities-" It was why he could afford to dally as he did.

" _-soon_ ," he stressed through gritted teeth with a look of agitation.

That caught her off guard. And as much as the idea alarmed her, for it would change her world profoundly, she felt proud that he was growing up at last.

"Learned something about mortality from that spectacle, did you?"

Rather miserably, he asked if she thought about Bagshot's choices often.

"Naturally. The more I think on it, the more...influenced I feel." It leant a buoyant feeling in her breast, to know that her life wasn't over because certain milestones hadn't been met. Rather, it opened a world as of yet unexplored.

"Maybe you should...think less of it."

It was said so petulantly, she wanted to laugh.

But when she smiled, she saw a dark, hurt look on his features.

She was going against tradition. It was bound to cause injuries.

Wanting to smooth his feathers, she pointed to a book on his bedside. "Shall I read a chapter to you from there?"

"If you think you can manage it," he muttered.

She picked up where the bookmark left off, assuming she'd figure out the plot, which she did; it wasn't a terribly complicated work.

She started to have concerns about her cousin's reading level though and then it happened. Certain words sprang out at her from the next page, and she realized the book's purpose and gasped.

Orion laughed openly at her and she saw the same meanness there that Druella had sported.

"Perhaps, you ought to seek refuge in that chronicle you brought." He reached a hand to relieve her of the book and likely finish the chapter in silence.

She ignored him and continued reading aloud.

It was the second passage of _that_ nature in the following chapter that she found her rhythm in the narrative. It became like a play.

Terribly melodramatic but amusing. And she'd always been rather good at pageants and the like. So she submerged herself in the roles and figured if the heroine opposite of the hero couldn't have lines as clever as his then she'd work hard to press passion there instead—breathy and desperate but earnest, if trite.

She replaced the bookmark when she'd finished, set it back onto the bedside table, and with a triumphant case of giggles looked up.

She found he'd gone completely red and that Lucretia was leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

Walburga faltered a bit, "Sorry, Lucretia. I-I didn't see you approach-"

"I'm here to escort you to the Ministry, I heard you needed someone to chaperone you while Orion's recovering."

"Oh, are you certain?"

"Of course, of course. But it's growing late, and I must return for dinner with Ignatius."

Walburga hastily gathered her things and crossed the room, waving a farewell to Orion as she joined her other cousin in the corridor.

"But Walburga, dear?" Lucretia offered.

"Hmm?"

"When next you read, draw out the syllables."

"Luca!" Orion hissed.

Walburga considered it. "You think so?"

"Particularly, the O's," Lucretia smiled and then shut her brother's bedroom's door.

* * *

She promptly visited the next day because she had been concerned to know her absence had weighed so heavily on him. Naturally, she'd assumed he wouldn't have wanted for well-wishers—Lucretia had confirmed as much. His hospital room had been crowded with cards, flowers, and visitors.

It was tempting to point that all out and scold him for being spoiled, but she wanted no hard feelings to remain between them. She was perilously fond of him.

She noted with amusement that the saucy book was nowhere to be found. There was a ballad waiting for her instead, every bit as vapid and sentimental, but flowery and clean.

Though this time, to indulge him, she had to sit on the bed with him.

He fell asleep about a third of the way in and she took out her pet project.

She'd received an acceptance letter into the tournament that morning and since Orion was sleeping, succumbed to her impulse to fill the paperwork out. She had to sign in quite a few places signifying that she understood what she was getting into and all that.

There was a questionnaire for hospital purposes outlining diseases, allergens, and the like. A release of liability and contacts for what funeral home should be arranged to take her should she be cut down. What make and model of wand she used, her name, her emergency contacts, her...age…along with a mission statement she had to compose; facts about who she was, what she hoped to accomplish, why she was participating.

She finished the other papers easily enough, but it was the last bit that she needed practice on. So she pulled out a notebook and began drafting.

She made herself comfortable, setting her inkwell on his bedside table and wriggling into the plush pillows.

There was the added bonus that Orion's mattress was very comfortable, and if she spilled ink on it, they'd blame it on him.

She was on her fourth draft and feeling rather confident about it when—

"What is that?" Orion asked, snuggling up under her left arm as he'd been wont to do when he was a first year and she was pulling an allnighter in the Slytherin Common Room to get her assignments done because she'd mismanaged her time.

"Mission Statement."

"Oh?"

"I...I've never done one before-"

"That much is obvious," he muttered, voice losing the lethargic quality it had a moment ago. "This reads like a personal ad...Walburga?"

"Well, I want it to sound friendly."

While she was very intrigued by the idea of being a career witch, she wasn't oblivious to the fact that she was going to enter a male dominated tournament. There had to be some eligible warlocks there. She needed to seem inviting and charming and...warm...from the onset.

Introductions were important. They colored the whole experience.

He took the notebook from her and scrutinized it more seriously. He shook his head and replied firmly, "No, you want it to sound professional. Else some might get the...the wrong idea."

The right idea, more like. "..."

"Is your father not giving you an allowance?" He scanned the other paperwork she'd filled out.

"No, nothing like that," she was quick to reply.

"What are you applying for then? Do you need additional income to save up for something? Does he disapprove and won't purchase it for you? A new vanity? Or a trip somewhere?"

She shrugged.

"Is this that Bagshot nonsense, again?" he grumbled.

She frowned. "I think it would be good to try my hand at something new."

"Like secretarial work?"

That was an idea too. Something easy to begin with in a career, though she wasn't excessively fond of the subservience of it.

Still, if this was the way her cousin reacted to the idea of her theoretically looking for employment, she started to doubt whether he'd support her actively participating in a dueling tournament.

Orion frowned in contemplation. "You've always had good penmanship and nimble fingers...maybe…Come on." He got up and pulled a house robe over his nightshirt. "Come _on_."

Despite her protests that he ought to continue resting, he led her to his office which his father had been all too willing to cede over to him a few years ago. She smiled as she remembered his enthusiasm, he'd even consulted her opinion for certain furniture pieces...and then cheerfully ignored her advice.

It seemed...even more masculine than the last time she'd been in it. No flowers. No art. The only crystal was on a silver platter on the great desk; the different graceful vessels held alcohol, likely the means of toasting various contractors.

There was a second desk in the room now, smaller, lower, though still fairly elegant. Atop of it stood a-a-what did they call it?"

"It's a typewriter. You see?"

"Like the newspaper?" she asked uncertainly. It was awkward and rather muggle-ish for her tastes.

"Precisely! Nowadays, certain clients prefer typed documentation. I understand you'd need time to acclimate to its use…though...I say that in theory, because no matter how often _I_ practice I'm complete rubbish at it. My fingers are too...I hit multiple keys...I...usually have to call in favors or search for freelance typists."

"You...want me to work here?"

"Yes, you'd be here...with me. If you're up to it, of course. And you'd have a salary."

She supposed it wouldn't hurt to get some practice and she couldn't imagine her cousin being terribly exacting or cruel if she made errors, so he'd probably be a good employer to train up under. At least at the start.

Still, she was startled to hear a ripping of paper as he pulled the drafts and forms from her notebook and strode over to the office's small fireplace. He set the wood there crackling with a flick of his wand and extended his hand with the papers over it.

"Wait!"

He looked back and frowned. "What is it? I thought we were in agreement? You don't need to look elsewhere, you'll work with me."

She faltered. "Quite right."

He gave a nod and tossed them in.

She'd owl Malfoy later to secure her duplicates of the forms.

* * *

Read & Review Please! : D


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **An** : Having too much fun over here. It's a blast writing Walburga as that special kind of bullheaded dense. To Good Idea, yes. There will definitely be some Orion POVs too. Next chap. XD And I'm glad you're stoked about her personality.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: An Adventure Of Her Own**

* * *

Walburga hummed softly as she arranged flowers in a crystal vase. When it met her approval, she smiled and leaned in to enjoy the sweet scent before moving it to the corner of her desk.

Several feet over, Orion was finishing up with a client, who was easily twice his age. She'd been a little worried that Orion's youth might provoke some instinctive doubt or disrespect, but was relieved to find it wasn't an issue.

Orion was very professional in this element. A broker...it was just so...respectable..and he kept such an orderly office. She had already admitted to his father, Arcturus, that it surprised her.

He'd frowned at her impertinence and she'd awkwardly reminisced about how she'd always had to badger him to do his herbology homework or keep his work space at the library clean (really, it was ridiculous how he'd dominated library tables).

He laughed in her face and told her that was years ago.

Yes...but…

Yes...

 _Arcturus gave her a funny look. "He's a man now, Walburga. I don't have to rouse him in the morning to get dressed, either."_

" _Praise the heavens for that," Melania had giggled while she glided by._

The clink of sherry glasses startled her out that remembrance.

She set to typing up a document Orion needed to deliver to Mr. Fletcher. He'd already written out what he wanted said but as she squinted at the message, she had to admit her cousin really did have horrible penmanship.

But she knew her own hand would be too feminine for that particular wizard to take seriously. He was her father's age and men like that...anything that was womanly was ripe for scorn.

Typing would be best.

She was overcoming her knee jerk aversion to the muggleness of the instrument in the same way she'd come to appreciate cameras and phonographs and if it helped her cousin's business and provided a reason to get out of the house…

It was well worth it.

And then there was the pay.

She had the distinct feeling her cousin was being over generous but wasn't quite sure how to broach it with him. Perhaps, he really did have fears that her father had diminished her allowance.

A little silly really.

While Pollux gladly donned a tyrant's scepter when dealing with her brothers, he was usually fairly lenient with her. Why, he'd only ever slapped her twice.

Once, after she'd eavesdropped and talked back at a dinner party when he privately lamented to a friend his unfortunate lot of having a daughter be his firstborn.

That was a mistake. For he never bothered to be discreet with his disappointment after that. And rather than voicing it when she was far away or occupied, he delighted in saying it while she was in earshot.

And again, when she could produce no tears at her mother's wake. The slap was as much to express his disapproval as to provide her aid. Because he'd done it in private, and the suddenness brought tears to her eyes and he marched her out among the mourners then.

There...there really wasn't much animosity between them, though they never bandied words to one another. While he made his disappointment of her brothers' failings often, he didn't harp on her.

Didn't need to.

As her father had said, " _A daughter. What could I expect from one such as you?"_

Orion's home, Black Hall, was a fair-sized estate, though half the size of Black Manor and more modern; built in the late Victorian Era following a fire of the previous homestead. It too, was fairly rural but there were neighbors within sight and pavement and fencing and manicured hedges and brooms left out on porches and lawns.

Adorably quaint, like the branch of the Black family that lived there.

Black Manor...wasn't like that at all. Her home was large and medieval, hard rectangular towers and geometric edges.

It's main defense was being surrounded by mires, darkly enchanted trees that liked to move, and a legion of hinkypunks.

After her brothers were born, Mother insisted the heirs be safeguarded at Grimmauld Place and rarely let them visit their other home at all.

Walburga had been welcome to flit between both estates—traveling with her father when he needed to do business or "have silence" or "find sanity" as he labeled it.

It also gradually dawned on her why (in her earliest years while Alphard was a toddler and Cygnus was in infancy) why it had been Father and not Mother who instructed her on how to safely play outside Black Manor...that her mother had been perfectly content to let her daughter wander unsupervised...whatever might happen.

Or that she still held hopes as Walburga aged and often pushed her to go with her father...as if depending on Pollux's benign negligence to...result in something unfortunate and accidental but convenient.

She was careful not to mention such things to Orion though. At his heart of hearts, under that strong frame, he was delicate and spoiled: the hoped for son of his parents and baby of his family. And then, after having him, they could relax. Though, she had to admit, they never seemed to treat Lucretia poorly. Though, their family wasn't the ruling one of the Black family household. There was less expectation demanded of them. They had more leave for weakness.

Why, the summer when she was eleven and mortified to still be forced into that odious, child-sized kitchen and parlor set (she was going to Hogwarts that fall for heaven's sake), Orion chatted whimsically about marriage and family. Arranging her dolls and adopting them for an afternoon, sometimes a daughter was his eldest, sometimes a son. Once, feeling rather spiteful, she brought nine female porcelain dolls and foisted them all on him—no males and thus, no heirs—expecting to shock him and wake him up to the reality of succession. She'd been surprised when he enthusiastically racked his brain for names and managed constellations for them all. He called them his darling muses and took too much delight in selecting middle names from Greek mythology.

A silly romantic.

He could never hope to understand her mother.

He'd refuse to understand her father. Or how Pollux could recognize his wife's feelings and accept them...allow them.

He wouldn't feel validated that Pollux evened the score out...later...by decreeing his sons as too weak and stupid to manage the mires and barring them from accompanying him on his hunting trips.

And that's how a young Walburga had met and outshot a certain Abraxas Malfoy. Which had infuriated him as much as it intrigued him.

It had been so satisfying telling the Malfoys, father and son, that yes, girls had a natural affinity for bows, all bows, crossbows included.

Maybe it was the smile her father gave her then...

That she suddenly knew.

She knew as certain as she knew their family's motto.

What her mother knew and wouldn't forgive.

What her father embraced but could never say.

She was her father's favorite.

The used glasses were set down on the silver tray and the elder wizard shook Orion's hand one more time as he stood up from his chair.

They laughed over something and she joined her cousin, taking his proffered arm.

The three passed Orion's parents in the hallway, who gave a short bow and curtsy to the client.

Mr. Potter tipped his hat to them with a sincere, "Mr. and Mrs. Black." Then when he crossed the threshold outside, he turned, smiled, and tipped his hat one last time with a "And a very good day to you, Mr. and Mrs. Black, the younger."

And disapparated with a pop.

Walburga stared and then murmured as a house elf closed the door, "...he's a very...eccentric wizard...isn't he?"

"Inventors. They're all like that."

Socially awkward? And grossly misinformed of the world at large?

"He thought we were married," she chuckled. "And you didn't correct him." She gave her cousin a playful swat. "I know he's old and you didn't wish to embarrass him...but what if he circulates that? It will hurt your chances if people are misinformed."

He'd said he wanted to get married and soon. If people thought them engaged...

"Good lord, as if people don't make rude comments already," she sighed.

Orion look startled by that.

Walburga felt her cheeks warm a bit. Did he honestly not know? "They...there are some who...believe...because we're often in one another's company that we're...what's the colloquialism? Ah yes, that we're... 'Kissing Cousins.'"

His face reddened.

Worse, there was some...basis for it.

It was nearly a decade ago though.

During a winter holiday gala hosted by the Malfoys where she'd intended to confront Abraxas about news of his engagement, her seventh year cousin had been playing spin the Butterbeer with his peers.

She'd been passing by, seeking Abraxas, when the bottle pointed to her but she ignored the catcalls and demands that she satisfy the game's rules...and the hisses when she made it apparent she wouldn't bend. For goodness sake, it was her young cousin!

On her return, after Abraxas confirmed his engagement and his own satisfaction with the match, she returned downstairs...intending to quit the evening there at once.

Poor Orion. It was his turn again. The bottle spun and landed on her a second time, and on hearing the groans from them of her being a sorry sport and a frigid, stone maiden and having no sense of humor. And that injury compounding what she'd already endured…

Furious, she stormed over and kissed Orion.

He'd harbored a terrible infatuation with her for the rest of that year which she blamed on adolescent lust and familial pity—arguing that Abraxas was no catch and that there were more eligible bachelors to consider.

It was only cured on graduation when he could start mingling with more women at balls and the like.

He was so young. She never should've done it. Confusing him like that. What had she been thinking?

Well, she really hadn't been thinking at all. He'd just been there and handsome and-

She shook her head.

"Does it embarrass you?" Orion asked.

"Hmm? What?"

"That...that they say such things?"

She shrugged. Her branch of the family had a tendency to stray into scandal. Why she'd be inviting more onto herself by participating in the tournament.

But...

A little scandal kept one relevant.

"Would you have me chase the man down and correct him?" He sounded irritated.

"I see now. Perhaps this was all by design?" she mockingly accused and he flushed again. "I daresay a man with a wife has more authority in business?"

Orion's eyebrows twitched at the turnabout but he haltingly agreed. "More trustworthy. For he would not take risks that could injure her."

"Should I we invite Andromeda the next time?" she jested. "Make a grander show? For surely a man with a wife and child can only be a greater trump card in this game."

He remained agitated but tried to volley her sally. Though his...missed the mark and was just….strange.

"So now you plan to borrow children. What? Don't want any of your own, now? Following Bagshot's example?"

She sighed. She never should've shared that with him. She'd scorched his sensibilities with such ideas.

"Yes, I think I'll dedicate my life thus. She'll be my Socrates."

He spluttered.

"Goodness." She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I have something against them now?"

Yes, most she'd encountered were loud, messy, and ill mannered. She was certain she'd perish on the spot by shame if a toddler of hers stripped down in a public place. And the idea of not having to deal with that on a daily business was one of the reliefs of not having that option on the table as it were.

But she was a fine and doting aunt to her nieces. Especially now that Bellatrix wasn't such an exhibitionist.

"I'm certain I don't know. You've had all sorts of odd ideas as of late...You used to want them. We'd name your dolls. And list name preferences. Was't Sirius and Lyra the usual-"

She frowned. "Nono, those were yours. Remember? You made a big kerfuffle, insisting on the name Sirius for your firstborn. I, however, was partial to Regulus."

"We both liked Regulus. My second son can b-"

Walburga turned to him, annoyed they were even arguing about this. "I _know_ we both liked Regulus, which is why I told you then, that when the time came, we'd have to duel for it or something."

And she was confident she'd win. Only...she wasn't getting married so it was a rather moot point. Unless, she simply dueled him for it anyway for a matter of pride. Which she might.

She left him and moved to greet Mrs. Melania Black and inquire about the day's menu (and would she appreciate Kreacher's assistance with the dinner's dessert?) so she didn't hear his deadpan reply or see his father's smirk.

"What if I told you, Walburga dear, this _incredible_ , mind blowing way where we could _**both**_ have a son named Regulus?"

* * *

She could scarcely believe that the tournament would start tomorrow. It was easy to lose her bearings and sense of time in the peaceful day-to-day of her cousin's household.

If she'd been holed up at Black Manor, she'd have burst with nerves and anticipation.

Being here was a happy distraction.

Walburga sat down to breakfast. It was so...cheery the way the lot of them gathered for a family breakfast every other Friday.

Lucretia and her husband were seated near her and Arcturus' siblings were nearer to him. Lycoris and Regulus, it was almost...reassuring seeing them. Neither was married or had children and they seemed fairly collected so...her fate needn't feel unnatural. She might even...ask them their feelings on the situation, if she could embolden herself.

Orion was seated across from her, per his father's orders. Though, he usually managed to make his way over to her side of the table before the meal was over. When he'd been a child, he'd been prone to crawling under the table to get to her; though one poorly executed joke, where he'd grabbed her legs and she gave a kick that knocked a baby tooth out, put an end to that.

She supposed, given the way Orion vied for attention at social functions, she'd assumed domesticity and schedules would bore him. But he didn't seem to mind the weekly pickups and dropoffs of her father's work for the Ministry. Often they went on excursions to Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley to amuse themselves or he took her to restaurants or walks through various parks.

A month had passed with that easy companionship and she looked forward to working now and wondered why she hadn't entertained the thought sooner.

"I feel like...quite suddenly you've become a member of my household," Arcturus Black III remarked dryly at her as he buttered his toast.

She faltered a bit as she chewed a mouthful of eggs.

Lucretia's mouth twitched with a smile.

Chagrined, Walburga noted that she had been present at far too many breakfasts and dinners as of late. "I know. I'm sorry to have imposed-"

He waved a hand.

She looked away in embarrassment and found herself staring at a great painting of Melania Black, Orion's mother.

And then to the woman herself.

Melania Black smiled in that peculiar way that had been her wont for the last few weeks and assured that they very much enjoyed her company and what she was contributing to their son's welfare.

Walburga shrugged. "It's no trouble at all. Orion has need of me."

"No doubt," she smiled.

"We work well together," Walburga declared.

Husband and wife shared a glance.

Arcturus dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, "Of course, of course. Very well."

"We're very glad to hear that. It is most convenient," Melania stated gently.

Walburga was spared from continuing what was turning into an odd conversation by the arrival of the mail and the house elves clearing the table.

Her dining companions sifted through various letters of business and pleasure.

Orion had his usual pile—tribute from his ardent admirers. She could smell the perfume radiating outward.

Walburga watched as he opened a package, "Chocolates? Well, that's a thoughtful gesture. I-"

"We never eat the chocolates," Melania warned quickly.

"Yes," Lucretia piped up wryly. "I made the mistake of eating one of his, once, and took great interest in spending time with Elena Stonely."

Orion had a house elf dispose of it.

Walburga shrugged. She'd have had Kreacher check it for spells first. That was a highline brand of confection. But perhaps their house elves weren't as talented as hers. Kreacher, her personal attendant, had been very thoroughly trained.

She had a fair amount of letters that morning. Wedding announcement. Wedding announcement. Wedding invitation. One from Alphard suggesting a luncheon with her and Cygnus. She tried not to grimace, those seldom went well.

And then an owl she didn't recognize at all appeared and dropped a hand-sized, square package in front of her before swooping out.

From the British Wizard Dueling Association…

She felt a whoosh of excitement fill her and she couldn't keep her face composed. She'd received a confirmation letter earlier that week informing her that her application had been accepted and that all competitors would receive their button the day before the tournament began.

And now it was here.

It was really happening.

She felt her face heat with pleasure.

"Who is that from, Walburga?" Orion asked—his dark grey eyes on her.

"Hmm? What?" She held it against her breast so he couldn't read its label.

"That," he pointed bluntly. "In your arms. Who is _**that**_ from?"

She felt giddy and embarrassed and at a loss of how to explain the box away. "Oh this?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

"Oh, it's from...no one of-of consequence I'm sure."

His expression soured. "Then why leave us in suspense?"

"No. I shall, I shall soon-only, you know, I just remembered something I ought to...first...do excuse-"

She heard his chair scrape back as he stood up but she was already hurrying down the hall for privacy.

Voices immediately broke out behind her, sounding concerned and she knew she'd shocked them and how terribly bizarre and ill mannered she must've seemed. Only…

Only this moment was all hers by right to cherish.

An adventure of her own arranging.

She traced her wand against the box while using a low level severing charm, peeked inside and-

O it was lovely.

She moved into an empty parlour room and lit more candles with a wordless wave of her wand to admire it.

The contestant button was the size of her palm and glossy; black with white lettering. Quite handsome. If she paired it with some manner of sash to tie around her waist...it could look very fetching.

Her number was 2526.

Well, that would be nice and simple to remember.

There was a small note within, instructing her that the button was required for her to participate.

The first duels would commence the next day. Below there were two columns that were spaced out by hours of the day.

Rather than names, the duelists were listed by the button number.

Those in Column One would face off against Column Two.

She scanned and found she'd been selected!

11:30AM against a duelist…4712.

She could make that work. Most definitely. A bite to eat for breakfast and then lunch would follow the bout.

Yes...and if she won...nonono... _ **when**_ she won, she'd treat herself.

There was a commotion behind her and she was surprised to see a breathless Lucretia at the threshold of the room.

"Quite...quite...alright? W-wal-burga?"

She must've been volunteered to give chase.

"Oh yes," she grinned. "Wonderful. I hope I didn't give you all a scare."

Lucretia gave a weak smile. "...no...though, my curiosity is piqued."

"Oh alas, you must have patience!"

"..."

"It will be known soon enough."

Lucretia looked unsure at that. "...Why don't we make our return then?"

Their family members watched her closely, and Orion moved from where he'd been in counsel with his father to where she and Lucretia were standing, no doubt awaiting an answer as to what could've possibly gotten into her but…

But…

There were so many things to do!

And she realized she'd gotten so tangled up in working with Orion, she'd forgotten to purchase arm guards for dueling. Her school year ones were beyond frayed and scratched. She'd tried persuading her cousin to enter a shop that designed ones she liked on one of their Knockturn Alley excursions, but he'd wrinkled his nose and wondered aloud what she could possibly need from there?

She needed to do that at once.

Get the arm guards.

At once.

So she could practice in them and break them in, at least a little bit. If they were too stiff, it could affect the grace of her wandwork.

Orion approached, lightly resting his hands on her shoulders and sliding them down to her elbows. "Are you alright? What is this all ab-"

And she needed to decide what to wear.

Appearances were awfully important and she wanted her first impression to go smoothly.

She definitely needed some freedom of movement but she didn't want to sacrifice her sense of fashion.

She needed to look professional.

She needed to look lovely.

And she needed to stop grinning like an idiot.

She took a step back from him.

"I...I'm terribly sorry. But something's come up and I must go. I...I-" she announced to the room.

Orion looked so worried.

"It's good news," she blurted to assure him. "It's very good news. I just...I need time to...I realize I can't work today with-with this" she glanced down at the box in her hands "...or tomorrow morning, actually, but I...but I expect to return tomorrow by the afternoon. Yes, yes, I'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

"Walburga…"

Poor lamb.

"It's nothing bad," she insisted, laying a hand on his arm. "I imagine there might even be something about it in the newspaper tomorrow. Maybe the morning edition...most definitely by the evening."

Orion's expression didn't change.

The doom there was almost comical, but if she told him her scheme now and the family started in on her, they might give her cold feet about the whole affair and persuade her to withdraw.

But he did look so forlorn…

Torn between sympathy for him and joy for herself and unable to contain it, she threw her arms around him.

His arms instinctively tightened around her.

"O wish me the best of luck, Orrie."

He didn't.

And he didn't let go either.

She tried to step back and couldn't.

She glanced up and gave him an amused look.

My, what an expression. Such a thundercloud!

He'd do this when he was younger and didn't want her to head off into a duel after curfew, or away with Malfoy to explore the Forbidden Forest, or give her brothers the thrashing they deserved.

But she employed the skill she'd mastered at seventeen and with a happy, musical laugh, disapparated.

* * *

Read & Review Please! : D


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **AN** : Another chap! Guess I'm on a roll. Thanks for the reviews, I'm glad there's been interest. Hope you enjoy Orion's side. He's fun to write too. So much softer and squishier than Walburga. But they're both so snobby XD It means, years later poor Reggie gets a double dose of snobbery. And now I really need to do my homework.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: If I Had To Choose A Scandal For Her**

* * *

Orion pushed away the bowl of oatmeal his house elf, Shybee, kept nudging toward him.

He just wasn't hungry. Hadn't been since Walburga waltzed out the previous day, happier than he'd seen her in ages.

He looked further down at the table where he'd recruited his parents and sisters because…

He just didn't think he could do it.

They were combing through several newspaper editions for an engagement announcement. They'd found two which nearly felled him until it was revealed as only the MacMillan family (to which Mother replied she'd need to buy a gift to show her congratulations for her kin) and some Weasley (but there was always a Weasley somewhere getting married).

Thus far, they'd found nothing about Walburga. But until the day passed and the newspapers proved nothing more sinister at work, or Walburga saw fit to release him from this torment by admitting she was just playing with him, he couldn't afford to relax.

"Master Orion should eat," Shybee murmured—twisting pale green fingers into her toga.

The thought made him ill.

Arcturus rolled his eyes at his son. "For God's sake, Orion, if not for your own, eat. We can always go straight to the source, Pollux, and demand answer. I doubt he'd stand to let her elope."

But he was such a cruel warlock, Orion's heartbreak would make him laugh. As if he didn't feel awful enough now...

His father sighed, "You monopolized a month of her time and didn't manage to woo her successfully. You-"

"There was no hint of a lover, none! We could afford to take our time."

"You had a whole month to propose, Orion." Arcturus insisted. "You dragged your feet."

"I didn't want it coming out of the blue!"

"You must've been entirely too subtle."

"I made several overtures but she didn't quite catch on."

"Or she was being politely indifferent to discourage you," Melania murmured.

"Mother!"

"She's quite right." Arcturus delivered a hard scowl, "If Walburga thinks you insincere in your passions, you've only yourself to blame. Making yourself ridiculous with so many lady loves. I don't blame her at all for not wishing to be part of a queue."

Orion felt a white hot flash of anger. "If she'd have taken me seriously when I first turned of age-"

"But she didn't-"

"I wouldn't have needed to go elsewhere."

His family looked less than convinced. Lucretia looked up from her section of the newspaper and raised an eyebrow.

Orion struggled to explain, "I had to try. To see if I might forge a connection with someone else."

"Well, when you make connections of those kind, you invite women like Walburga to make judgments on the sort of man you are," Melania concluded.

"The sort with skill?" He countered nastily.

"Orion!" Arcturus hissed, for his being so inappropriate.

"The sort that strays after the altar," Melania returned coolly.

He flushed with anger at that vile assumption..

He would be a very faithful husband! Why, if his affections were returned by the object of his passions, the scope of his needs and attentions would narrow to a razor's edge. It would be a joy for his wants not to be divided among women. If only the one he wanted would make answer! Then he could look forward to demonstrating his devotion and then having his appetites wholly satisfied...provided he met hers first of course. He was a gentleman.

He tried not to think about her reading from that book. Long ago, he'd resigned himself to the reality that she'd likely be as reserved as she was unpracticed in such matters. She was so easily shocked by the risque. That he knew he'd have to be very slow and patient and understanding of her delicacy while encouraging enthusiasm on that aspect of marriage. And that she might defer such intimate gestures until later on.

And he was prepared to suffer.

But now, knowing there were hints of saucy boldness beneath that composure…

Willing to dare and shock and take risk...

There could well be a strong current of passion beneath that air of restraint.

If he could but work it free, the two of them could at last—

"I think I've found it!" Lucretia announced.

Horror flooded him and he choked on despair.

"That's the sports section," Arcturus murmured in puzzlement.

"It's the only thing I can make out that lines up with what she told us."

Melania leaned over and wrinkled her nose as she read out, "A Dueling Tournament?"

"There are matches all day," Lucretia explained. "So she could be one of those matches. The ones before noon."

* * *

Orion seethed. "If it's so, then this is without a doubt, the stupidest, most dangerous, psychotic, unnecessary, reckless stunt she's ever pulled!"

"I wouldn't start with that," Arcturus advised as they pushed through the crowd.

Orion glared.

"This is called wisdom, Son. Hardbought wisdom from thirty-five years of marriage. Do NOT begin with that. No matter how true."

"Wizards die in this tournament. Last year we saw several amputations! That fellow from Yorkshire only just woke up from his coma!"

Did there have to be so many people? His nose wrinkled as wizards dressed in cheap manufactured muggle clothing brushed past him.

There were several wizards who appeared to be drunk despite it not being past noon. There were witches with blouses cut so low a sneeze might expose them, and magic folk of such poor dental hygiene that their loathsome habits were obvious.

He spotted a witch trying to encourage a crying baby to nurse while her five year old whinged and clung to her skirts and there were children from toddler to teenhood running amok trying to get a better view of the field's great dueling ring which was divided into multiple smaller sections for the opening bouts.

"The unwashed masses," Arcturus sneered in disdain.

It was because the tournament wouldn't charge admission until the final few rounds of the competition. This was why Orion usually didn't attend the earlier bouts, knowing they would be accompanied with riffraff.

They found the entrance to the duelists' tent, but weren't allowed past a certain point—it was a fenced in area with a tunnel on the side that led to the ring, but Orion was sure he could climb over easily if he must.

"Sorry gents," a robust bouncer barked. "Only duelists beyond this point. Got to check themselves in. But you lot will get to see them pass through here again before they get to the ring."

"There's someone we must speak with, a contestant. Walburga Black."

"Can't leave my post, but if she's entered in this, like you say and she's scheduled, you'll see her shortly. The next round is about to begin."

Arcturus frowned, "How can you be certain?"

"You said 'she' and we ain't had a single woman pass through to compete yet."

They watched wizards pass by at 10 AM to hold matches at designated spots in the field.

At 11:15 AM, he saw her. It was such a sweet relief that he felt his anger begin cooling.

He eyed the Edwardian bustle of her skirt, the high necked blouse that was ruffled at the neck and cuffs, her striped vest of dark green and silver, capelet, and there accentuating her waist and hips was a silver sash with her competitor button pinned to it.

Beautiful.

She'd always been beautiful.

She opened her parasol and spun it lazily—a sign she was bored...but even bored...she looked beautiful.

It was probably for the best that her hair was pinned up and half hidden by her hat.

There was something bewitching about her hair; long, lustrous, thick, and alluring.

When he was young, she'd let him brush it and he'd run his hands over and through it.

It never lost its novelty.

He'd twist the glossy strands around his fingers or braid them and twine flowers in the plaits.

It was one afternoon not long after his seventh birthday and he was feeling pleased about that because it officially meant that until August, he and his cousin were only three years apart.

 _He could use that to insist he was old enough for the scary stories and secrets she shared so freely with Malfoy. She seemed to think hearing about gargoyles would frighten him into nightmares because he was soooo young._

 _It was annoying. She always rounded up the gap to four years...but it was really three and half. Less than a half actually. And considering he was tall for his age and she was short, he was sure that by the time he got to be at Hogwarts with her, he'd be passing her by pretty fast._

 _He'd been lying on the grass in his backyard daydreaming and staring at the blue sky. He was just entering a doze when she knelt down near his head and leaned over._

 _He hadn't been expecting her or her waterfall of hair to frame him—making it seem like she was the only thing in the world as he glimpsed her through his lashes._

 _She grinned down at him and then traced her lips as if applying lipstick, melodramatically narrating that she wore Wiggenweld and had come to waken the sleeping prince. She bent forward and brushed an innocent, childish kiss on his lips and bid him rise._

 _She grinned again, revealing once more that the gaps of her smile were slowly being filled in by adult teeth and she giggled._

 _And he knew he loved her._

Orion blinked as a middle aged official approached her and gestured to what she was wearing and carrying.

He pointed to a wall lined with storage crates designated for holding duelists' effects.

Walburga held her purse a little tighter and raised a hand to her hat.

She'd probably been advised to remove it.

She frowned.

He needed to find a way to gain her attention and persuade her to leave with him. This was no place for her. And she was dressed far too finely for so coarse a sport as this.

She could be an object for pickpockets or—

"Ooh," a young rough voice behind him appraised,"Who's the bit in the skirt?"

Or worse...

His friend laughed, "We had a saying back in my school days, the triple f."

Both men snickered, "A fine filly I'd like to-"

"To what, m'love?" A woman, who could only be his significant other, demanded.

"-c-curry favor with," he finished weakly.

"Nice save," she sneered.

Orion clenched his fists.

"Son, not the place," his father warned. "We're vastly outnumbered. And she's safer beyond this fence."

He released a shuddering breath. It was yet more proof, she shouldn't compete. Shouldn't be here in any capacity, exposed to this. It wasn't safe. No aspect of it was safe.

A third man, older than the others joined his rough companions. "I see you don't recognize her, she was an upperclassman though so-"

"Don't recognize who?" yet another man, who Orion recognized as Knowley, asked and then looked on Walburga and cried, "Dear God, hit the deck! Captain Battle Ax has come out of the woodwork!"

"What?"

"Wot?"

Knowley snickered, "Abraxas called her our pet Amazon. Only girl on the Slytherin Dueling Team."

It was then that Abraxas Malfoy himself sauntered out of the duelist tent and approached Walburga and the official.

Despise wasn't a strong enough word for the loathing he felt at that man.

From the time he'd entered their lives, he'd been a hateful distraction and he took a special interest in coming between them.

On noticing Malfoy, Walburga promptly shoved her handbag, parasol, capelet, and hat into his hold while she followed the official.

It was customary for duelists to ring the ceremonial gong before heading in for their match—to signify strength, initiative, fraternity.

Walburga looked reluctant and tried to give it a soft rap with her knuckles.

Orion sighed. _Walburga_ , he thought, _did you ever even watch any of these tournaments before signing up for this one?_

The official shook his head and gestured to the steel mace stationed on a great slab of quartz.

"Aww poor bird-"

"You see? See? They're just not cut out for-"

"Don't know what they were thinking, letting her in-"

"Making a mockery of the spor-"

She and the official became increasingly irritated with one another to the point that she grabbed the mace, the official had to duck out of the way, and she hit the gong hard enough to dent it.

She then expertly spun it in her hand and offered it to a duelist behind her.

And the twitters of the crowd stopped.

Arcturus chuckled, "You know? Alphard had said something about her having weapon's training but I assumed it was something a little less..."

"Barbaric?" Orion mumbled.

"Abraxas, darling!"

Orion stared as Obsidia Malfoy appeared near his elbow. Heaven spare them from ladies who risked themselves! And she had young Master Malfoy in tow! And the toddler looked especially put out.

Abraxas' eyes widened and he came over to the gate, "What on earth are you, this is no place-"

"Lucius and I-"

"Return home-"

"How strangely bedecked you are," she observed.

He looked at his laden down arms and gave an exasperated smiled, "I know, Abraxas Malfoy. Celebrated School Governor. Accomplished warlock. Last year's champion. This year's glorified hat rack."

"Well, we all have our place in this world," Walburga declared, having followed him over. "Or so I'm told."

"Walburga," Obsidia greeted with an unflinching smile. "How good to see you after that...ball? How terrible it was."

Walburga's face faltered a bit but she recovered, "Obsidia, dear. I hope you don't mind my making use of him. I can't believe they don't employ a Gringotts Goblin to watch our things. Seems unprofessional. I ought to write someone."

"Well, men don't typically haul half their boudoir with them," Abraxas scoffed. He lifted the purse and made a strained expression, "Here's the real weapon. Truly, you should use a weight lightening charm."

Walburga's lips puckered with irritation, "I have."

He laughed. "Well, thank goodness for your opponent you're only allowed your wand. One good strike from this-"

"I can take her effects," Orion volunteered.

"Orion?" Walburga breathed. "Oh you clever man, you found me out and so quick!" She looked over at Arcturus with more surprise. "You've come to support me, also?"

Father and son shared a glance and Orion's face twitched but he nodded and his father followed his lead on how enthusiastic they ought to be.

They'd never scold her in a place like this but...they could make displeasure known in their looks and actions.

Both wore smiles and calmly accepted Malfoy passing her things to them.

Though it meant enduring a patronizing, "Mr. Black, good to see you, sir" and "Oh, it's young Orion, I wondered if you'd show. If I recall, you never were terribly fond of watching the dueling team's matches."

Watching people hex and curse his Walburga, sometimes bodily hurling her across a room…

Why no...no he wasn't "terribly fond" of witnessing that.

"Walburga, I'd remove the earrings," Abraxas advised. "Last year, there was a man with facial piercings...it didn't end well for him."

Walburga pouted but did as bade.

Orion was surprised as he cupped his hand to accept them that they were the earrings he'd bought her this year for her birthday: black pearls.

"It's a shame," she sighed. "I've found them lucky."

Orion felt warmth spread through him at that. Even if it was more than a little pathetic.

She gripped the bars, "Do wish me luck, since I can't wear them."

He took one of her pale pretty hands and kissed the knuckles, "Always."

She gave him a playful pat on the cheek that turned into a short caress to his chin, dismissed him as a flirt, and flounced away.

His skin tingled, while his ego ached.

But he wasn't the only one having troubles.

"Abraxas, dear. Your match is an hour off yet, isn't that so? Why not enjoy the festivities with me and our son?"

"Ice blossom, I told you. The later rounds will be more...suitable for you and the child. And Black doesn't know where to wait for her match. She has no sense of direction. I can't trust her. She's hopeless. I've never told you but in our first year, she disembarked the train and missed the way to the boats altogether-"

"Oh yes, twenty steps on my own. However will I manage? I feel so disoriented, already. So frightened so-wait! There are arrows, I daresay I'm saved," Walburga sneered. "Oh look, there are signs, too. How fortuitous that I can read! My father had me instructed in the art. Radical, I know."

Abraxas rolled his eyes and called back, "There are ruffians in there also. And you will be in close quarters and-"

" _Duelists scheduled for half-past eleven? Please assemble,_ " a magically enhanced voice announced. " _Mr. Amon, Mr. Avery, Mr. Batton, Mr. Beed, Ms. Black, Mr. Blue-_ "

"Ms?" Malfoy chuckled. "Ms? You're going by Ms. now?" Malfoy called after her, his ice blue eyes watching her until she was out of sight.

Walburga glared, held her head high, and turned on her heel. Snickering, Malfoy caught up with her and both disappeared from view in the tunnel.

Arcturus gave a slow nod and murmured low enough so only Orion could hear. "Alright. I'm in agreement. It's a most dangerous and reckless stunt unfolding here. Let us hope she goes out in the first round."

Orion felt torn at that because while he very much wanted her out of the tournament he didn't want her pride injured. It would be better if she simply withdrew.

Arcturus rested an arm around Orion's shoulders. "If I had to choose a scandal for her, better it's you."

* * *

There'd already been three matches and the sweepers were currently clearing up a puddle of blood.

Considering his own ordeal, it made him more than discomforted to see blood so soon. Considering Walburga could suffer such a thing in the next few minutes, he felt weak-kneed and sick to his stomach.

"So terribly sorry about that ball," Obsidia replied. "Simply awful."

Orion nodded, only half-listening, "Yes, yes. Terrible thing. Better now. Here for Walburga."

Her expression warmed as she bounced Lucius on her hip. "You have great attachment to each other then? I was much impressed with how she tended you. She didn't flinch one bit. And in all that gore. It was almost romantic, I think."

That caught his attention and he raised an eyebrow but her cheeks remained marble white.

"Horrible," she agreed. "But romantic."

Even though he knew she was maneuvering him with such talk to have him act as a wall to separate Malfoy and Walburga, it sent a thrill of pleasure through him nonetheless.

To think of Walburga's devotion…

The way she immediately came to him…and no, she hadn't faltered through any of it. He knew she was loyal to him. Fond of him. Appreciated him. Enjoyed his company. All that was needed was a desire that was less cerebral and more physical, and they'd be setting the date.

Obsidia adjusted her hold on a squirming Lucius and smiled tightly.

Well, if Mrs. Malfoy wanted him to stamp out any spark between her husband and Walburga, he was only too happy to oblige.

"Her turn," Arcturus pointed out.

His stomach flopped and he tried not to lock his knees.

"Steady," his father muttered.

Her opponent was an arse.

When the announcer was introducing them and asked if Mr. Colt was concerned about facing Walburga, Colt remarked, "I beg understanding from my opponent, since she cannot be persuaded to withdraw for her own good sake. For alas, my great respect of this fine sport will not afford me to exercise restraint...even when faced opposite against the fairer sex."

It made it sound like he wanted to do violence to her. Orion's teeth gritted.

Walburga was less moved by far and she clapped politely.

The announcer and Mr. Colt were taken aback. "I see you clapping, Ms. Black. Can it be that you agree? Do you not fear-"

She pulled the announcer's wand to amplify her voice. "Oh, I completely agree with Mr. Colt."

The announcer blinked a little surprised and the audience seemed uncertain as what to make of it until—

"I, too, show no restraint when _**I'm**_ facing the gentler sex." She grinned maliciously at her opponent.

The crowd made a low "Ohhoho" sound of mean amusement and applause broke out.

Arcturus sighed from his spot beside Orion and then chuckled. "I suppose we ought to have prepared ourselves for that."

The announcer moved out of the ring, "Duelists bow. Duelists take your respective sides. Wands at the reeeeady! Begin!"

"Expelliarmus!" she bellowed.

Mr. Colt's wand flew into her grasp.

* * *

Orion exhaled almost giddy with relief as they left the tournament area.

"How anticlimactic," Walburga pouted, pulling her arm guards off and setting her wand safely up her sleeve.

He helped her into her capelet, handed her the purse and parasol, and hooked arms to escort her away.

"It was awfully boring, wasn't it?" she asked Arcturus. "I do hope the next round promises more excitement."

"Walburga…" Orion replied, voice strained.

Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder, "I wonder...perhaps I ought to stay and watch Malfoy's match. He did do me the courtesy of-"

"He will receive praise enough from his wife," Arcturus assured.

"Yes, I imagine you're right. And he really only watched my match because it was convenient rather than because he meant to do so deliberately. I feel satisfied and can now leave him behind without fear that I've-"

"You are aware, my dear, that the family will need to discuss all this?" Arcturus addressed. "This day could've gone very differently should a more lethal partner been assigned to you."

Walburga frowned.

Two hours later found Orion at home pacing the dining room, casting glances at an irate Walburga, who sat at the table, arms crossed, spine rigidly upright, eyes glinting with fury.

While several uncles, cousins, and Walburga's own brothers, had arrived to make their concerns known.

Pollux did not come.

And they really could've used his presence.

It wasn't Orion's father's place to lecture her as a daughter.

"As a woman…" Arcturus looked greatly uncomfortable, "there are dangers present for you...outside of the ring...that are...considerably less for men. And even in the ring, there are injuries you could endure that could do harm to your possibilities of...er...to your potential...er..."

"Progeny," Melania finished.

"You didn't seem so adverse to my competing when-"

"We would never do you the dishonor of seeming unsupportive in so public a place!" Arcturus thundered—offended at the possibility.

Orion was aghast. How dare she even insinuate such! Like she'd have preferred the quarrel!?

It was worse because Orion knew well how much his parents liked her and were willing to support his efforts to win her hand. And how they owed her his life. The healers had told them as much. She'd managed to delay the blood loss long enough for him to get proper aid.

"You can't compete," Cygnus scowled. "It's madness. Father would never allow it."

Walburga's eyes flashed. "This isn't about any of you and let Father try and stop me." She glared all around the room. "Let any of you try. I'm no child. Let alone a weakling. The tournament recognizes me as an eligible competitor."

Alphard removed his glasses to clean them and sighed, "Walburga...please...don't do this."

"And why not?"

"Consider all you have to risk!" Orion interjected desperately.

God, if she died. If she died…

He'd go mad. He knew it.

"To risk?" she rounded on him. "I'm not a wife with a husband to think of. Or children. And even if I were, husbands " _ **risk**_ " themselves without such censure. I'm not married! I'm free to do as I will. Femme sole!"

It was too close….

To the source of his pain. To the knot of her ignorance or obliviousness that he couldn't unravel. To the torment that had gnawed at him day and night since he was seventeen and the threat of Abraxas Malfoy was supposed to be put at rest or so he thought and he hoped all would finally resolve itself and yet didn't because he just couldn't manage to get her to—

Orion lost all of his patience and charged over. "If that's what this is all about then marry _**me**_ you crazy woman! And be done with this dangerous foolery!"

"Don't _**mock**_ me! It's more! It's about me getting to be something besides Walburga the daughter or the sister or the wife or the woman! I'M WALBURGA THE DUELIST! My magic doesn't care what form I have!"

With a CRACK she disapparated.

God, how he hated when she did that.

He stood there and fumed.

"Consider yourself lucky," Cygnus shrugged, breaking the silence and lighting up a cigarette. "She could've held you to that."

Orion turned to him and snarled.

Both brothers stared at him, then at each other, then back at him—looking simultaneously fascinated and repulsed.

"Walburga? Are you mad?"

"W-walburga? Are you desperate?"

Yes. To both.

"Well, at least we know you have the nerve to say it," Arcturus shrugged. "That's half the battle won. Now, we simply work on the delivery of the proposal."

Orion's shoulders sagged as he looked at him for guidance.

"She didn't think it was earnest," Melania sniffed. "Just I cautioned, she didn't think you-"

"Therefore, the question wasn't received. And if wasn't received, then it wasn't a 'No,'" Arcturus argued, making eye contact with Orion and giving him hope. "It wasn't a 'No,' Son."

* * *

Read & Review Please! : D


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

 **AN:** Thank you for your reviews! It's fun knowing I'll be able to weave details back and forth between this fic and _Foreshadowing Demise_. I also kind of like the idea of giving Orion one more POV chap after this. (So we get three from her and three from him establishing them and then they'll start swapping within a chapter.) Now, I really need to work on homework before I fall behind XD

* * *

 **Chapter 5:** **What Really Troubles You**

* * *

Several days following what he dubbed "First Marriage Proposal Blunder," Orion was up much earlier than was his wont. He'd been having trouble sleeping since the fallout.

And she wasn't seeing him. He'd tried visiting Black Manor multiple times and was told she "wasn't in" by various house elves.

And once by her father, who told him with cheerful malice, that she was "out" indefinitely.

So he was surprised to find her typing in his office.

She looked up, "Casual Friday?"

He blushed and pulled his house robe closed over his boxers.

"I...didn't expect you…"

"Well I am still employed, aren't I?"

"Of course."

He got dressed, did some filing and reviewing of requests, and tried to make a peace offering by taking her out to an elegant lunch at _La Saveur_ followed by a stroll through Diagon Alley, followed by a stop by Gringotts for him to monitor his accounts, and then a hat boutique.

All the hats were the same to him, but he'd have bought the store out if it would've made her smile.

She was sad.

And while she made a good show of pleasant reserve, the ends of her lips kept pulling her sweet mouth down.

They stopped at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and she poked her spoon at her confection.

"Tell me what I must do for amends and it will be done."

He was almost begging. Almost.

"It's just...difficult...Orrie."

God, he hated that nickname but if he was going to build bridges, some knocks had to be taken.

She heaved a sigh. "Either...no one has any faith in my competency or they completely doubt in my ability to choose what's best for myself. Not very flattering options, you understand?"

"I know you're a gifted duelist. I just don't understand your need to prove it. Is it not enough to know for yourself?"

And surely some manner of anonymity would serve her better if, God forbid, she ever was attacked.

"I may as well ask you why you needed to be on the quidditch team. If you knew you were skilled, why was that not enough?" she echoed back at him.

"You only came to one game," he remembered bitterly.

It had been his last chance of impressing her before she graduated beyond his sphere. He'd wanted to be part of something vigorous, since dueling wasn't his strongest suit and he had to find a way to show up Malfoy, who couldn't play anymore following an injury and his mother's forbidding him to participate anymore.

And that was a match where they didn't even win.

She frowned, "But did I interfere with your passions? Have I ever?"

"You make your disapproval known." She didn't need words.

"But do I barr you from them?"

"...no." For better or worse, and he couldn't help but think of several nights of poorly chosen birds and cheap booze where interference might have proved helpful. No, she was very hands off. Most of their problems stemmed from that.

He very much wanted her hands...on...him...

"-want to see how far I can go. For me. Why is that not enough?"

"Because I'm madly in love with you and want you safe beside me." Now, why did that sound familiar?

"Oh yes, whisk me away to some far tower," she smirked and gleefully quoted, " _And ravish me with your passions."_

Blast that stupid book. It was still heavy on his mind.

But it did give her a strong case of giggles and he found himself smiling along with her.

Smiling…because...

It hurt too much to laugh.

* * *

It was frustrating.

Very frustrating.

To be in his bedroom with the woman he loved. At an hour where no one would disturb them and have her be...completely…and unforgivably…

Oblivious.

"Come on, c'mon," she shook him by the shoulder and in a hushed voice said, "I want to see Avery's duel."

Because hearing your beloved say she wanted to watch some other man was precisely what he wanted to hear, first thing in the morning.

No thank you.

"I know no one else will go with me. They think it will only encourage me."

They...were right.

He pushed down his covers a bit to give the impression he had nothing on to try and shock her. The truth was, it was still rather warm for his tastes despite being the beginning of October, and he'd simply gone to bed in his boxers.

But if he could just win some blush from her...he'd know if there was some spark of feeling he could fan.

She didn't react.

She often seemed to not appreciate the physique he put such effort into. All the weights and circuits he ran that made other witches swoon...and with her...nothing.

He always gave her every opportunity to express some interest in his physical form, sometimes outright fished for compliments, but it was always the standard "You look very handsome" or "quite smart" or the dreaded "dapper"...which was what his Grandma Hesper had said about him often before she passed on.

"Orrie, pleeeease! Let's see Avery. I wanna know if he still trips when he gets anxious."

"Too early," he made an exaggerated turn onto his side, not realizing she wasn't leaning over the bed as he'd assumed but was actually on it. His movement sent her tumbling on top of him.

Worse, when he moved back over to try and help, she moved to try and disengage and their noses brushed.

She laughed and sat back.

And maybe if that was all that resulted, he could've laughed too.

But they were now in a very suggestive position and thought was swiftly fleeing him as lust settled in.

"Walburga?"

She shifted. "Hmm?"

The woman was going to kill him.

"Oh, sorry," she climbed off apologetically. "I know I'm heavy."

"No," he murmured hoarsely. "Not that."

She snickered. "Well then, here, let me fall on you again."

Cruel woman.

"C'mon, then. Accompany me. You're wide awake _now_."

Oh, he certainly was.

* * *

He kept an arm around her as the crowd besieged them so they wouldn't be separated.

Her face was composed but the hand gripping his was white-knuckled and he knew she was uncomfortable. Her hem kept getting trampled and she kept pressing closer to him the more the crowd responded with barbaric joy to particularly brutal duels.

She was petite and it was hard to say who was more aware and concerned. She looked around like a parakeet unused to being beyond its protective cage and rightfully nervous that there was a cat in the room.

He didn't want to see anyone knock into her. He'd had a terrible fright last year when some careless muggle shouldered her off the pavement and into traffic. Yes, she'd disapperated before any harm could be done but...

He rubbed his thumb across her soft knuckles.

She looked up at him and her nose wrinkled as she complained at the noise.

He nodded and offered to take her away.

Her mouth puckered like she'd taken a sour treat but she didn't complain again—aware that there'd be an "I-told-you-so" attached if they retreated, considering she'd dragged him from his comfortable bed for this.

Still, there was something about watching her...watching Avery's duel.

Her silver eyes would flash and she'd make minute movements (not quite twitches) as she became invested, sometimes whispering, "Move your feet. Move your feet," with such concern he almost felt jealous of it. At least until, "Avery, c'mon. You cretin, I trained you up better than that." And it was clear no romance colored her feeling and it was more her pride as a former captain of their duelist team than any real affection for the man.

He sighed and leaned down to rest his head atop of hers, careful to avoid the feather of her hat.

She reached a hand up to angle his head so she could ask and be heard: "Tired?"

And there was something wonderfully intimate in that moment as skin brushed skin in multiple places.

He nodded against her and to his surprise, Avery was just taking a triumphant bow to the crowd when Walburga tugged the lapel of his coat (in a surprisingly childish move for her) and asked to leave.

"You don't want to congratulate him?"

Walburga raised an eyebrow and then shook her head.

When they moved beyond the crowd, she explained, "Competition. I knew he had a good backlash jinx. You saw. I remembered he was good, back in the day. He's dangerous with it now. But his footwork is sloppy. He was lazy then too. That's how I'll win."

And there was something in her certainty that he found endearing.

She collected a few pamphlets and a newspapers from stands and put them in her purse saying they were for her memory box.

They talked a bit about some clients and work waiting at the office.

And then she requested they go to a small cafe that he liked and was surprised that she remembered that he liked, let alone consented, because it was too rustic for her tastes. But he and his family had come here quite a bit growing up, and it remained of sentimental value to him.

He waited for her to complain about the ambiance or menu selection.

"Orion?"

He already knew what he was ordering and waited to be asked. Just to have her go, _really? That? Are you certain?_

"Orion?"

He bobbed his head, waiting for it all to begin.

"Orion?" she insisted more shrilly.

He made eye contact and tried not to be annoyed; he knew he was just getting hungry, they'd skipped out without having any kind of proper breakfast.

"Thank you...for coming with me."

He blinked. She wasn't a woman who oozed gratitude or compliments.

And a blush was suffusing her pale skin.

"I'm ever at your service," he smiled gently, meaning every word.

She normally gave a prompt nod and would hasten to forget the moment occurred, so it was a surprise when she gave him a long look instead...and for a moment something vulnerable shuttered through her eyes and she seemed to instinctively know it, because she looked down to hide it.

He immediately set his hand over hers. "What is it, darling?"

Her head jerked up, startled, and their eyes met. "W-what did you...you just-"

He gave an easy smile and held her hand, stroking her fingers. "You said I was welcome to pick out a pet name for you and warned that your name doesn't lend itself to such ventures."

"Y-you can't choose that!" she argued indignantly as she went very pink.

"O, but I can. And it's my favorite now. You even answered to it!"

She went red and tugged her hand away as the server strode over to attend them.

* * *

Orion frowned as Walburga poured him a cup of tea while he reviewed reports at his desk.

She shook her head fondly, "You're getting yourself all worked up over nothing, Orion, dear."

He flushed and looked up.

She grinned a bit snidely, "See? It trips one up, doesn't it?"

He smirked back, "Not at all...my _darling_."

She blushed and set down the teapot and fetched the letter that had him vexed. "I think Abraxas has a fair point and a good plan."

"Of course you do," he growled and she looked at him in surprise.

He tried to lighten his expression for her sake, but couldn't say whether he succeeded.

She put a hand on her hip. "There's so many duelists and...even if I make it all the way up to the Grand Royale. I'll only fight maybe seven more times? The space between matches is terribly far. One can lose their edge so easily without consistent practice. And I know full well I'm rusty."

He took a sip to keep from arguing, that it was the perfect reason to withdraw. To take a year off, consider the next year, get married instead, forget about it altogether...

"He suggests we practice like old times. Gather equipment and supplies. Anyone from Slytherin House who's participating in the event are welcome to join."

Oh yes, one unmarried, wealthy, beautiful, aristocratic woman amidst a horde of men. Whatever could go wrong?

Time for another sip. "..."

"And it's good exercise. For mind and body. Gets one thinking, gets the blood moving, and increases the breath, strengthens the heart and ligaments and, well, everything, I suppose. And I think...it has a...a very...good effect on one's health and joy. There's something about the rigor of it. When I've fought with all my might and my lungs burn and my chest heaves and I feel the ache of exertion...and find victory despite the challenge...Oh, it's just so pleasing."

"I can offer an alternative that does _all_ of those things and is more pleasurable. Hundredfold. No! Thousandfold. And can be accomplished from the sanctity of one's own lodgings and-"

She scowled. "Don't be lewd, Orion. I know it's difficult for you. But try, for me."

Another sip was necessary.

Still, he indulged her later that afternoon by taking her by that horrid duelist shop in Knockturn Alley.

* * *

The house elf, Jelly, refilled his goblet with wine.

Orion was pleased that his parents had made an effort to prove there was no lasting coldness because of their differences in opinion.

It was becoming more apparent that it might take more support than once thought for Orion to secure the match of his choice.

He'd told his parents repeatedly that she just didn't notice his attentions.

His mother still had doubts.

But it seemed like his father was sympathetic.

It was better than Lucretia who seemed amused by it all and took every opportunity to tease him mercilessly. " _Don't worry Rye, big sister will help you get yourself married."_

And the fact that he was so desperate...he just had to take it.

Walburga had limited her contact almost to the point of incivility, coming only to meet with Orion for work or pleasure and only greeting other family she came across in a perfunctory manner.

So they'd fashioned a formal invitation for her to come and dine with them that night and abruptly assured that it was only great love of her that made them confront her...which made his normally loud, demanding, vivacious Walburga...very quiet.

Which alarmed them all.

It took Lucretia to lure her back out of her shell with safe topics about fashion and food and a new dress shop she'd seen advertised in a magazine.

She then moved in a new direction.

"So," Lucretia pressed while her husband busied himself with his steak. "Walburga? Do you really expect me to believe that glory is all you're after?"

His darling frowned at the impertinence, "I see no need to be condescending."

Lucretia waved a dismissive hand, "I only mean to say...were there no wizards there?"

Orion and his parents stared at her boldness. She was trying to flush out if Orion had any competition.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear.

"I...I...well, yes, of course. I think...I mean, I fought one. Obviously."

"Nonono, you misunderstand."

"You asked if-"

"I won't believe that there was no handsome warlock in the whole tent?"

Walburga's jaw dropped in that way that only happened when a particularly well timed stupefy hit her. And he'd only ever seen it happen three times.

"I...what now?"

"O come now, cousin, don't be shy. Any foreigners? Or maybe highlanders from the north?"

"I…"

The family waited.

Walburga blinked at her plate, cheeks pinking, "You know I…" She turned red and sounded flustered as she admitted, "I didn't really look. That horrid official kept badgering me about the rules and the dress code and I didn't-"

"Now, that's a crime," Lucretia tutted.

Orion frowned, wait now. Whose side was she on?

"I mean, you must've looked around at least a little. Were there any Italians? Greeks? Were they all old? Balding?"

Ignatius gave her a hard look and she squeezed his hand.

Orion guessed her design.

If they were hideous, he'd be the more handsome.

Clever.

It was rather clever.

"I mean, you plan to marry at some point, right? Got to keep your eyes open, love. Learn your preferences. Blondes? Brunets?"

God, woman...say brunets...

"Yes, I suppose...but," Walburga started to nod and then stopped, "I'm not sure...if marriage is...in my future."

Orion felt cold.

Lucretia faltered and looked to her mother for assistance.

Melania smiled, "I think every woman wonders that. Different paths they might take. In my girlhood I was a very accomplished pianist and wonder what concerts I could've been a part of."

Arcturus flinched and coughed a bit on his drink.

"I still play, at home, and at parties, and such."

Arcturus sighed.

"Truthfully, all I need do is tell my husband that I desire to play, and he'll sometimes interrupt a musician right during the bridge so that I can play immediately." Melania's mouth twitched a bit in amusement.

Arcturus went red.

His wife smiled, "So, I know precisely how you feel. And while marriage brings many new responsibilities, yes, you don't lose your old joys...you just...gain new ones. I think you'd enjoy married life, Walburga. With the right partner, of course."

She looked over at her son and Orion felt a warm rush of gratitude for his mother.

Walburga didn't notice and fiddled with the arrangement of her silverware. "Sometimes I think so too. Sometimes I think of how romantic a duty like that would be…to have someone pledged to you until their death. If they meant it, you know?"

Orion perked up. So "romantic" was a part of her vocabulary after all and in her thoughts too. Good to know. And marriage was romantic. Bit by bit, they would get there.

"But lately...I don't know. I'm not...adverse by any means but...sometimes I...don't know if I'm...meant to…"

He shuddered.

"Why? You'd be a wonderful wife," Melania assured.

Walburga colored at the blunt compliment and muttered, "I look at other wives and don't see much resemblance between them and myself."

He frowned. Because...until now he'd thought it was more on him than her. That whatever reluctance she felt was all his fault...from his side of their relationship. And all the stupid things he'd done over the years.

But that sounded like that came from somewhere deep. And though it was said neutrally enough, it savored like pain.

Perhaps, she wasn't the typical lady fair but could Orion have counted on any of the soft speaking, sensuous, giggly girls of his acquaintance to have held him together as she did at the Knotts' ball?

"Explain what you mean," Melania requested.

She looked very reluctant.

"...Abraxas...my brothers too...used to say I was doomed to be a nag and I...quite agree."

"Good wives give their husbands counsel, even when he wishes least to hear it," Arcturus stated with a fond look at his wife and a schooling look to Orion.

"...yes...I know...just teasing me...but...I suppose I'm leading you astray from what...that's not what really…what really..."

"Then what really troubles you, dear?" Melania asked kindly.

"...there's Father to think of…"

Orion and his parents shared looks of intrigue and suspicion.

Melania continued, "Why? Would he not desire a strong son-in-law to love you, and support you, and provide for you and your children, and keep tender company for the rest of your liv-"

It started low and for a moment they feared she was sobbing, until she threw her head back and cackled. Like that was the best joke she'd ever heard in her life.

So then, it didn't sound like Pollux was too receptive of the idea. Orion's father had warned him that might be the case.

That Walburga had no offers of marriage for her hand was downright bizarre. It might well have been that Pollux was a brutal gatekeeper and didn't pass on any offers to Walburga. That she never knew she had any at all.

And he was getting the feeling that the silence had hurt her.

He frowned into his goblet. Well, Pollux would have to get used to this suitor. Because if Walburga would have him, Orion wasn't certain he needed anyone else's permission.

* * *

Orion was sure to spew. He knew from the letter in his hand who Walburga was to face and by chance spotted the button pinned to the man's belt as he moved through the crowd.

He was a titan; broad and brutal with great scars that interrupted how his beard grew.

Orion knew he'd gotten caught up in the past few weeks of normalcy and that's what was making all else worse. Her returning to his house for meals and work, made her receiving a note outlining the time and date of her next bout, unbearable.

He was in a panicked spiral.

Walburga's step was light and she seemed to bounce with excitement.

Orion and Cygnus accompanied her over to the duelists' tent.

She was the one dueling yet his palms were sweating.

"Orion? If it makes you so uncomfortable, you need not stay. I understand, truly." She was lacing up her arm guards.

"I won't abandon you."

She smiled, told him that was very sweet, surprised him by giving his cheek a soft platonic peck, and passed the gate where he couldn't catch her up for a real kiss.

Cygnus rolled his eyes.

Still, he managed not to comment until they were back in the crowd seeking a spot to watch and support her from.

"I can't believe I never realized how lovesick you were," Cygnus muttered. "I always assumed you were melodramatic and that's why we were heard such pretty talk from you all the time."

Orion frowned at him.

"Of all the women you've romanced and the ones you could still have yet...why Walburga?"

Orion glared.

"She orders you around, she talks down at you, she speaks harshly, I mean...yes, she treats _**you**_ better than _**us**_. But that's because you indulge her. And I always wondered why you did." Realization came over him. "How long have you liked her?"

He colored.

Cygnus' eyebrows raised. "Good God, the longest courtship I've ever seen. It'll be a record of our household. You've been at work since childhood, and yet I start far later with my lady and I'm the one with three children soon to be."

"Don't...boast," he growled.

Cygnus took a step back. "Of course, of course, you're after Walburga so...if it was a judged event, they'd factor the difficulty in for your score."

If Cygnus' company wasn't enough to make him miserable, he spotted Abraxas Malfoy in the crowd.

Worse, the blond made his way over.

"Young Cygnus, Young Orion," Malfoy greeted with that sneering smirk that always pulled half his mouth up higher than the other.

Like he was still four and tagging after him and Walburga.

His teeth gritted.

" _Orion Black!" his name was called._

 _Orion moved forward from the line of first-years and wiped his palms on his robes and looked out into the Great Hall. His sister waved and smiled from the Slytherin table._

 _He grinned back._

 _Walburga was seated beside her but to her left was Malfoy...and he kept leaning in to whisper in her ear. Whatever he was saying made her laugh and her attention was torn between them._

 _This was supposed to be_ _ **his**_ _moment._

 _He stared imperiously in their direction as he sat down on the three-legged stool and awaited his sorting._

 _They brought over the hat but he was hardly paying attention._

 _Lucretia had said there was a giant squid in the lake and he promptly began fantasizing about feeding Malfoy to it._

" _Slytherin!" the hat declared confidently._

Orion smiled and held out his hand for a handshake, "Abraxas Malfoy, too long."

"I know, I know. Walburga keeps me up to date about you though," as he grasped Orion's hand back.

For his part, Orion had to compliment Malfoy's composure.

While several muscles ticked in his jaw, he did not cry out as Orion crushed his wand hand in a bone-breaking grip.

* * *

Read & Review Please! : D


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter...alas.

 **AN:** Thank you for your reviews! And here's another new chapter! Because I'm still on a roll...somehow... Don't know what it is. Just feeling it with this one right now. Prisoner of the plot bunnies over here. Hope you enjoy! Now onward!

* * *

 **Chapter 6: He Really Hated When She Did That**

* * *

Orion alternated between looking up at the match and back down at his shoes while he tried not to panic.

Walburga expertly deflected two rapid fire Stinging Jinxes and sent a Knockback Jinx of her own.

Cool. Calculating. In control. She didn't seem at all anxious.

Orion was well aware he was sweating profusely and that he physically flinched when a scorch of flame belched from Hamish Gow's wand and all that was keeping Walburga from being incinerated was a Shield Charm. It seemed so...thin a shield to depend on.

She maneuvered herself out of the way with an impromptu somersault and Orion was relieved she'd worn a soft bodice instead of boned stays. They'd had an argument about fashion the previous day when she'd brought over her intended ensemble for the duel to show off to Lucretia. He'd had to put his foot down and declare that it would've been madness to fight in a corset.

When she complained about wanting to keep her shape pleasing, he'd scorned that it was good and well to look lovely while being carted off in a stretcher because she couldn't dodge a curse.

Walburga sent some sort of tripping charm that successfully took her opponent's legs out from under him and Orion could've sworn he felt the ground shake, Gow pointed his wand and—

Orion looked away again. And tried to focus on his breathing and not the lung crushing anxiety that she could be hurt.

Cygnus elbowed him. "Oi, she's got the upper hand. She's getting him, getting him, getting him, yup."

He looked up in time to see her disarm him.

A trumpet sounded, signalling her victory.

He immediately moved back toward the gates to retrieve her, happily losing Malfoy and Cygnus in the crowd.

Her eyes lit up on seeing him and when they drew near each other, she smiled in satisfaction, "Now, that was more like it. That was worth seeing, wasn't it? Took effort."

She dragged her fingers through a few curls that had been dislodged and revealed how long her hair was. She'd started putting up her hair in her fifth year, when twitters about her leaving it loose, became too much.

And he'd missed seeing the long dark strands that captivated him. She occasionally wore it only half up or hinted at its length with a long chignon curl but the last time he'd seen it fully free was three years ago.

He'd heard a rumor that the muggle and muggle born-lovers of the Ministry were advocating for harsher laws on those possessing Dark Arts objects and on those selling them, especially ones that found their ways into the wrong hands following a resale. It meant another era of house raids for the oldest families would be imminent and that he had from a good source that Black Manor was on the list.

Her father had been out and Kreacher had answered the door.

He was led to a hall.

She'd been in a pretty nightgown reading by the great stone hearth and enjoying its crackling fire. When she stood and walked over, the light from the fireplace made her silhouette visible through the material and he'd fantasized about the image ever since.

Orion frowned as she went over to shake her opponent's hand.

Gow earned Orion's lasting hate when he kissed Walburga's dainty fingers.

The feeling intensified as she'd said over and over for the rest of the day, pink faced and overeager, "Rather courteous, don't you think? Not handsome in the traditional sense, of course, but he is...pleasing in a rougher way."

He grunted in reply to that.

"You think he'll continue to attend the tournament? The spectacle, I mean, of course, he's not in it anymore so I could see why he wouldn't but...do you think he'll continue to-"

He prayed he wouldn't.

* * *

Orion crossed his arms and scowled and several wizards near him edged away.

His mother sighed and quietly reminded under her breath, "Orion. A gentleman keeps his expression pleasant."

He tried to relax.

Though it was hard, considering the locale.

A peacock squawked and he glared and feigned a kick that sent it running.

"...Orion, manners."

He glared at the back of Malfoy Manor.

Earlier, Master Malfoy had looked down through a window at the duelists his son was hosting and drew the curtains...like he was washing his hands of the affair.

Which was a shame because it was obvious the whole thing overwhelmed his daughter-in-law, Obsidia, no matter how many meetings they hosted.

These weren't the sort of guests she was raised to encounter. She always watched the rough men pass her with timid eyes and held her child close to her breast.

It made him feel bad for her and angry at her husband...at any husband who would put his wife into a position that made her so frightfully uncomfortable.

His father never did that.

Orion looked back over to where Walburga was patrolling lines of former Slytherin housemates. Her dress and blouse were looser than her usual outfits of choice for ease of movement and she wore boots instead of heels.

It resulted in her looking smaller and more delicate.

Which bothered him...though what annoyed him worse were her smiles, far too demure and unlike herself.

Where were his lady's sharp grins and smirks? She was working to look agreeable and smooth, pretending she was a pearl instead of a diamond with all its glittering, cutting edges.

Her eyes lingered that bit too long on her comrades—sizing them up, cataloguing pleasing attributes. He got the impression that she was a better judge than he'd first estimated. She dismissed the slight, the slump shouldered, the slovenly, the sallow skinned, the paunchy…

No, her preference was for specimens of strength and athleticism.

Well then, he'd make sure during the clean up to heft the targets up by hand instead of magic...might even find an excuse to lose his shirt and vest. Even if it did embarrass his family.

To hell with manners.

He cleared his throat when she drew near and on being caught—she blushed.

Orion made a point to follow along with her as she inspected and corrected duelists' forms and footwork as they performed drills.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked candidly.

She flushed. "Posture is essential for proper-"

"Mmhmm."

She gave him a look.

"Critiquing my posture now, are we?"

She poked him and smiled, "If you want to practice, you're welcome to. You never guard your left flank and I'm determined to break you of the habit."

"Perhaps another time."

When the dueling bouts began, Abraxas and Walburga immediately paired off. The first match went in her favor.

Though it was so volatile and dangerous to witness, he and his father had to escort his mother inside the house when their second battle began.

It rattled her nerves and she mumbled that she didn't think she could endure another.

They ended up in a parlor where Mrs. Malfoy was cuddling Lucius and tickling him at turns.

"Oh, h-hello," she greeted, a pit of a blush coloring her cheeks on being discovered thus.

"Hello," Arcturus returned and introduced himself and his family.

"Young Mr. Black and I have already made acquaintance."

They sat on a divan across from her.

"Mr. Black?" she looked at him.

"Orion is fine, thank you."

"Mr. Black will do for me, dear," Arcturus smiled.

"...are you in the tournament, also?" Obsidia questioned mildly. "I didn't think to ask you before."

"Heavens, no. I...I think there's enough danger in the world, one doesn't have to go seeking it."

Melania gave him a look that said, 'don't be bitter, dear.'

Arcturus looked amused.

Obsidia gave a wan smile, "...yes...that's...that's why I'm in here...I...I couldn't bear it if something…" she looked down at the toddler in her arms.

They were quick to assure her that they completely understood.

And she thanked them for volunteering to cater the event.

"It makes it...so much more civilized, I think. The other meetings…" she looked at Orion. "Well, you saw them they're so…"

Brutal? Unsettling? Overzealous? Strangely Spartan?

"Unstructured. No tea, or appetizers, or drinks beyond water. Just training." She wrinkled her nose. "Not like...er...this is...this is much nicer, I think. Yes."

They talked about innocuous things like weather and restaurants, when Lucretia burst in white as a sheet, "O-orion! Quick! You must-Quick! Quick! Father!"

Orion pushed aside duelists warning him to stay out of their fight—knocking Avery full into a rose bush and MacNair into a small koi pond.

That monster had her in a chokehold.

"Damn you, woman," Abraxas growled and gave her a slight shake. "Yield."

But her wand was still in hand and she wouldn't.

Malfoy tightened his grip and lifted.

And Orion disapparated and apparated right behind him and decked him.

Forget magic. He didn't need magic.

The man fell away from her and she dropped to her knees.

No, the real magic involved was finding the restraint to let him lie there swearing and bleeding and not doing more to him.

He carefully picked Walburga up around the shoulders and knees and carried her inside to the parlor, flanked by his parents and sister.

He set her down on the divan and Obsidia nervously ordered her house elves to bring ice.

His mother had gone marble white and her hands were shaking. Lucretia seemed stunned and Orion could tell his father was furious.

Walburga coughed and glowered at him, "W-why?"

"Rest," he told her while he surveyed the extent of her injuries.

In defiance, she sat up, eyes flashing with rage. "H-how could you?!"

He shook with fury of his own.

"They'll think me weak!" she hissed.

As if to confirm the point, Malfoy came then, mopping his nose and lip and sneering, "What's this? The mighty Hippolyta spent so soon?" Malfoy sneered.

"Don't flatter yourself, Brax," she panted and rose to her feet. "Everyone knows you couldn't hope to best me through casting, violence was your only avenue."

Malfoy's good humor fled, "Then by all means let us have another match. Right now we're at a draw. Let us see which proves the better."

And she dodged Orion's mad grab for her and followed Malfoy back out.

The next fight demolished half the grounds or so it seemed and ended in a draw.

Orion and the immediate members of his family had taken refuge under a willow at a far edge in the front of the house when the explosions in the back of the estate began rattling the manor's windows.

A good handful of duelists left altogether. Orion's mother was badly shaken by the spectacle and just kept her head against her husband's shoulder. His sister's eyes were wide but she made small talk to try and restore some normalcy to the moment.

All four looked up when Walburga came to them like a grinning goddess of war—sleeve torn off, half of her hair loose and tumbling to her waist, dirt all over dress, and a smug satisfied air.

"Now, that...was...a battle," she boasted.

She sat down between Orion and his father leaned against the trunk of the tree with them, breathing raggedly.

Apparently, all her animosity against him had been forgotten. And it had hurt to be looked at so. He frowned down at her.

Orion glared when an equally battered Malfoy approached, vest without buttons, frock coat gone, one boot splitting apart.

"Still undecided," he stated, voice roughened from shouting incantations.

"Well...you'll have to stay in suspense until the tournament." Walburga shook her head, "Your manor won't survive if we continue like that each time we meet."

"Hang the house. I'll defeat you, yet."

"Not today."

"Why not?"

"Because," she laughed, "I live to defy you."

He kicked her booted foot and jerked his head back to their battleground. "C'mon."

Orion's hackles rose.

"I said no, Brax."

Malfoy frowned and opened his mouth to argue—

"She said _**no**_ ," Arcturus hissed firmly.

The blond's eyebrows rose and he wisely stalked off.

Walburga leaned against Orion's shoulder and set a hand over his clenched fist.

He released a harsh breath and let her slip her hand in his.

"Don't be cross with him. Please? He's my friend, Orrie."

He could feel his parents watching them.

Her chest was still heaving from exertion and when she looked up at him, he could see her neck was bruised. He very carefully touched the area.

How could Malfoy do that to a woman? To _her_?

"Why...can't you be friends?" she pouted and gently pushed his hand away.

He gave her a hard stare and felt his lips pull back in a snarl...pleasant expression be damned.

Because...Never.

"...he knows...no restraint…" he growled.

She laughed and squeezed his hand, "I know! Ha...haha. I know. So cruel. Isn't it wonderful?"

He felt a flash of alarm and hurt and anger that she'd want such a man for company.

She smiled fondly, "And that's how I know...when I win, I know...it's _**never**_ that he let me."

* * *

Orion sighed. It was hard trying to find normalcy after that Malfoy Manor fiasco. If his father had been grave and livid, his mother had been terrified by what she'd seen.

" _This is why you've been so nervous about this tournament, isn't it? Good God?! I had no idea! Rus, you must do something. You know people, you must-"_

Worse, when they tried to bring it up to Walburga she shrugged their concerns off.

Dueling was a rough sport in her book. " _He saw an opportunity to press his advantage. He pursued it. That's the whole point of a duel. Exploiting weaknesses."_

Concerned she was putting on a facade of strength for his parents and sister, he'd tried broaching it when it was just them in the office.

He'd enfolded her into a tender embrace when she brought a report over and reminded her that she could confide in him. Always.

" _I'm alright, Orion," she smiled indulgently and wrapped her arms around his middle in answer—tossing the report onto his desk. She gave him a light squeeze and rested her head against his chest. "I know, I know. You think I'm made of glass." She craned her head to look up at him and gave him a very gentle smile. "But I'm not."_

She was careful to wear high necked blouses for the next few days and he'd spotted her scooping out copious amounts of Bruise-Be-Gone Cream whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

Conferencing with his family eventually led to his and his sister's current plan as well as a disclosure of what subtle differences he was noticing in her behavior as of late.

Orion nudged his sister, "You see?" He dried his face off and set the small towel on his shoulder.

They'd asked Walburga to meet them at _Floo Fitness and Health Facility._ There were posters everywhere promoting it as a place where _Wizards and Witches Can Burn that Extra Weight Away and Transport Themselves to a Better Self Today!_

The previous day, as part of the plan, Lucretia remarked to their fair cousin that she'd noticed that Walburga's tournament had several gala events.

" _If I'm going to look gala presentable, I have to start now. Or it'll be glamours all the way."_

Both had remained silent in response. Yes, his sister had gained weight since her wedding a few years ago. But they would never dare say as much. She must've read into their glances though, because her eyes had narrowed and she'd scoffed pointedly, " _I AM married. Being super fit and trim is for people without spouses. You're still on the hunt."_

Orion had winced.

Walburga had sighed.

"You see?" he grumbled.

"I see."

"..."

"Orion, it's a good thing."

"..."

"It is. She's...er... _awakening_. I mean, technically, it's what you want. You...you need that to happen...if..." she smiled a bit naughtily, "if other things are going to happen."

But it was supposed to happen with him.

It made him want to go back to the third level and have a few more rounds of good ol' fisticuffs or make use of a punching bag.

"She's showing interest."

"..."

"It'll help us, I promise. We'll see what she gravitates too and we'll know how best to present you in a way she'll fancy."

Walburga hadn't spotted them yet and was simply looking around like she'd never seen a gym before.

There was a look of noticeable surprise and intrigue as she studied various apparatus and people with interest….particularly men...particularly muscular men.

Lucretia gave him an encouraging look. The frames were similar to his which was...a point in his favor.

Only...

One wizard who was lifting dragon-egg shaped weights gave Walburga a wink.

She stopped, turned rather pink, and then awkwardly moved on.

"C'mon Rye, is it that intimidating?"

"Yes."

"Noooo, everybody else had the Third Year Awkwardness of Fancying People. The dates, the rejections, the acne, the notes, the need for deodorant, the making-an-idiot-of-yourself because...hormones. No one escapes unscathed. I can't tell you how envious I was that Walburga waltzed through so much of that. But here's the proof. Her awkwardness just got distracted by a hinkypunk somewhere along the way and instead of being thirteen...it's striking now. We have to be nice about it, Rye. Give her some room."

No, he didn't. Not if it meant giving other men an opportunity to woo her.

He raised a hand to get her attention.

"You're late," Lucretia pointed out when Walburga was in earshot.

She rushed toward them.

"You're late," Lucretia repeated.

"Hm? Oh...yes...had to help Father with...things at home."

"We told you to wear training clothes."

She indicated a bag hanging from her shoulder.

"Alright, I'll find you a place to change. Now, there's dancing and hoop exercises and broom stretches and a pool, the merman who runs that class isn't too hard on the eyes. Exotic, he only gives instructions underwater though, so you'll need to be comfortable-"

Walburga shook her head. "No, I need to lift weights and fight."

Brother and sister had no comment for that.

When they'd invited her along it was because they'd been hoping to show her an alternative to Malfoy's dueling meetings, where she could train up but...be...safe.

It was looking like she saw this as...additional training...

"You saw how easily Abraxas overpowered me," she shrugged embarrassedly. "It's...it's my fault. I underestimated him. He's...he's stronger now. I...I used to be able to take him but…" she clenched her fists. "He's...he's not seventeen anymore."

Orion blinked. No, no, Malfoy was not what she was remembering. He was thirty and taller and broader and stronger than her. And it had terrified Orion to see her brutalized like that.

"So, I'll need to practice. You fight," she nodded at Orion. "You-"

" _ **Never**_ ," he gritted through clenched teeth.

Because...no…

Never...

She released a breath through her nose, "Well then, you can at least show me around and point out trainers."

* * *

Orion stared out at the glittering lake and its swans.

Walburga had enjoyed feeding them bread and now that the crusts were all gone, she came back to him.

He'd been struggling against increasing pangs of jealousy as the weeks passed.

She was becoming dangerously popular at _Floo Fitness_. A variety of wizards were eager to take her under-wing (some out of fatherly concern, others with less magnanimous intentions). There were even a number of wizards from the tournament that were taking it upon themselves to give her pointers.

Especially, when she admitted she didn't usually fight with just her hands...because they couldn't hit hard enough. They showed her how to make a correct fist, how to station her feet to deliver a more powerful blow.

Plenty liked touching her—her hands, her shoulders, her elbows, when guiding her through movements.

Worse, he could tell that she was becoming...aware...of their attentions and interest in a way she hadn't been before. And liking it. She was more prompt to return little smiles and give overzealous "Thank you's."

He had to move them forward, take a stand, make his intentions and desires known before it was too late.

They were sitting in the shade of a willow, virtually unnoticed by the occasional walkers by.

He leaned back against the tree's sturdy trunk and tried not to focus on his heart which was hammering in his throat.

"You're so grave today," Walburga noted. "It's a little cool I'll concede, but the sky is too bright to be so glum and-"

He unfastened his cloak and set it around her shoulders.

She smiled a little ruefully, "I...I shouldn't have said a thing. Now, you're going to be the one who-"

No.

No, he felt very warm.

Because...he had to do it.

He could feel his time running out.

Soon there would be other suitors…

Hell, they were already appearing.

Many kept at bay simply because they weren't sure what to make of him being in her company. If it was assumed he wasn't interested...that he was merely a bodyguard or chaperone...

He had to make the most of this moment.

He swallowed thickly and wrapped an arm around her and she settled into his side.

And she felt so perfect there, surely, she could feel it too?

He took her hand in his, stroked it gently, carefully, lovingly.

She watched bemusedly as his fingers twined with hers.

"Walburga?"

"Hmm?"

"My darling...I've done all that I can...to...to try to make my feelings...known. But I...see now I must speak plainly…" He swallowed again, licked his lips nervously, screwed his courage to the sticking place and confessed, "I love you."

Walburga blinked and looked up at him.

He felt his face heat up but refused to back down. "I...I find us...very compatible in...in our beliefs, and desires, and-and values...I...see no reason why we couldn't be...happy...very happy."

She looked away to the water.

Which...wasn't very encouraging.

Did he dare reach for the ring in his pocket?

"Orion, you're very fond of me."

"Yes," he agreed readily.

"We've spent most of our lives together."

"Yes!"

"I can depend on you always."

"Of course!"

"It's familiarity," she shrugged simply and turned back to face him. "And you've confused it for...something else."

"..." He could feel a powerful frown pull at his features.

She sighed and pulled her hand free.

It was one thing to have a rejection. It was another to have his feelings...dismissed.

He struggled to hold in his temper and disappointment and stared hard at the lake.

Walburga sounded absurd as she lamented with a theatrical, tragic tone, "You're my dearest friend. I wouldn't have anything spoil that."

"Marrying me wouldn't spoil it," he gritted tightly. "We hold each other's every confidence and intimacy already. This is but the final step-"

Walburga sighed, "You're infatuated with me again."

His eyes flashed. Hearing his love knocked low...to something as slight as that...like a Devil's Snare tendril that would die under sunlight.

She gave an exasperated breath, "...God. I'm just going to have to cure you the hard way, aren't I? I always hoped it'd never come to this that I'd never have to but...you give me no choice-"

"Going to kill me outright?"

The name of his cure would be death. And right now it would feel like mercy.

She didn't respond.

In irritation, he faced her and froze because her face was right next to his.

And then she pressed her lips to his.

He blinked.

She pulled away.

"..."

"You see?" she leaned back. "No angels sang. No great musical chord was struck in you. Nothing. Not even schoolboy lust. You're a man now, you've known others. You didn't enjoy it."

He stared and spluttered, "W-well, that's just because you're terrible! You kiss like a child or a brick. You did that then too at the Spin-the-Bott-but that doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything because I lo-"

Something like anger or hurt flit across her face before a cold-I-told-you-so air settled its frost over her. "See? You're cured! It's a matter of wanting what you can't have and now you're free-"

"The mood wasn't right!" he argued hotly.

"You'd had some built up fantasy and now it's shatt-"

"The mood! You can't expect to upset me and then entice me and for me to recover that quick. Like a bloody rubber band. Give me a moment, woman, and I'll show you-"

She raised a mocking eyebrow. "The mood?" she scoffed. "I've seen you in noisy ballrooms, and dance halls, and carriages-"

"There's alcohol and greater skill involved. That wasn't a kiss-"

"One woman's slap and into another woman's arms before a song ends-"

"-I agree, but darling that's not love that's just s...not love, but this is-"

"Well, I don't care and you see now I've no talent. You see that firsthand and I wouldn't want a husband who has to use alcohol to endure my kisses."

"That wasn't a kiss. You pressed your face to mine and no more."

"We just have to get this out of the way. I blame myself. We-"

"You didn't, it doesn't count if—If you'd just let me-"

"-didn't talk it all through the last time so it-"

"-finish-"

"-didn't get resolved properly."

Orion sucked in a long breath. "Fine. Fine. Go first."

She nodded. "The...the tenderness you feel for me is simply because you know I'd never hurt you. And...and you're right, I wouldn't. You mean...too much to me. And you know I...I wish to be married and...you present yourself as a means of fulfilling that wish. But duty isn't the same as passion you know? I...I'm looking out for you. It would injure me to see you entangled into something which...which you couldn't swiftly free yourself from. That would ruin all we have...can't you see that?"

He made no sign of agreement.

She hesitantly tried to set her hands on his and he moved them away.

She nodded seemingly resolved, opened her mouth to likely say something distancing and dignified. And he gently held her face and leaned in, slanting his head to catch her lips with his own.

There was an art involved, a pattern, timing—knowing when to press and relent, how to tease, how to overcome a frigid reserve.

How to be giving, how to be tender, how to be patient, patient, patient.

Until, yes, there.

She responded. Her desire clumsy, unsure, new...but genuine.

He drew her closer, deepened the kiss, felt her sigh against him, press against him, trust in him to support her languid weight, and he kissed her more earnestly.

This was a kiss...

Smirking, he pulled away just a hair to murmur. "It's called practice, darling. You just need practice. And a better sense of timing. The next will be even better." He brushed his lips over hers one time more before leaning back. "I promise."

"..."

He'd seen her look less stunned by a direct immobilius hit.

And then she went from white to pink to red to purple.

"Oh, and by the by. I'm not _**cured**_ by any means," he declared haughtily. "And judging from the way you're looking at me now. I'd say you were converted."

CRACK!

She disapparated.

Dammit. He really hated when she did that.

* * *

Read & Review Please : DDD


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **AN:** Ugh, trying to survive a ridiculous amount of assignments DDD : Hope you enjoy this new chapter! Thank you so much for your reviews! : DDD

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Entitled**

* * *

Walburga lay on her bed sifting through old photographs of her and Orion; she smiled nostalgically at medieval themed masquerades where she, by height and hennin hat, towered over a far shorter Orion, who'd recently lost baby teeth.

There was a photo of them and Lucretia all waving from the same window of the Hogwarts Express. He'd been a first-year and so excited, she hadn't minded him insisting on sharing her compartment...though Malfoy and their agemates had been less enthused. He'd always been her dearest friend and loyal playmate and she'd given a razor sharp smile to those that scoffed on seeing him tag-along with her.

There was a photo from Malfoy's wedding reception where he'd accompanied her as her plus one guest. That event had been more than a little awkward, what with her disappointment of Malfoy breaking his promise, a storm breaking out and the lot of them having to shelter back in the chapel which required standing inappropriately close to all manner of people...particularly her still smitten cousin. It was made worse because he was...taller than her by then. And if it had unsettled her having him be eye level with her in his fourth year of Hogwarts (when she'd welcomed him home during the holidays), being face to collarbone with the seventeen year old was very awkward. Little did she know then, he wasn't done maturing and he'd grow taller and broader still in the years to come.

He became someone she couldn't give a playful shove to or wrap her arms around to comfort when his team lost a quidditch match and he was blaming their bad luck on her for not attending.

They'd remained close of course but...the nature of it was...changing…

Had changed...obviously...

And learning now...that he was _**still**_ smitten...even after all this time...

For the last few days, Orion had been owling her and knocking at Black Manor's door at all hours. She didn't permit Kreacher to admit him.

She still wasn't sure how to mend things...how to make them go back to the way things were...

She looked over at her servant now.

"Missus Lucretia Prewett at the door to see you, Mistress."

She sighed, "Alright, let her see me."

Perhaps, there'd be some way of clearing the air or passing a message or-or something through her.

Not long after, Lucretia appeared. "Hello, dear cousin."

"H-hello."

Was it just her or was there something in that smile?

"Under the weather?" her cousin asked too innocently.

"...s-something like that."

Lucretia's smile turned taunting. "Oh dear, I must tell Orion. Mayhaps he'll have the _remedy_ you ne-"

And then she knew.

"You're a SPY!" she shrieked.

Her cousin winced at her volume and then shrugged sheepishly and agreed as she hovered near the edge of Walburga's bed, "I'm a spy."

Walburga was aghast. "Bonds of womanly sorority-"

"He's my brother...and he says you kissed him."

"Well, the first one was just to prove to him I-"

"So you kissed him _twice_?" her jaw dropped in delighted surprise and then she snickered, "And you initiated-"

"No, you're misunderstanding-"

"He only told me the one-"

"Oh, so now he's spreading it around?"

Lucretia frowned. "No, I was teasing him and I just wanted to know if he'd made a move. He was moving like a glacier, had to be sure he hadn't frozen up altogether."

Walburga was shocked. "You, you, you KNEW...that he felt like...that and you supported him in this!?"

"...yes, I support him," she affirmed quietly but seriously.

"Conspiracy! It's...not right." Walburga gestured to all the photos on her bed. "That's how it's supposed to be. Simple. Sweet. We were happy. All of us."

Lucretia picked one up that had Malfoy, Walburga, and Orion in it.

"...Orion wasn't happy." The thirteen year old was near the edge of the picture and gave a lackluster smile to the lens before his face darkened. "He was miserable that whole year. Not that you noticed. Obviously."

Walburga faltered. "..."

There came a knock at her window.

On seeing the figure there, Walburga gasped and unlatched it, "You idiot, what're you-"

"Well, if you weren't going to budge for a door, I had to see whether you were willing for a window," Orion huffed. He swore under his breath about it being too narrow and ridiculous and why the hell hadn't they renovated?

"It's the architecture," Walburga bit back defensively. "It's supposed to be like this to preserve the integrity of the estate. Our ancestors designed it as a means of protection against siege."

Lucretia helped pull her brother in where he landed ungracefully on the floor.

"Conspiracy," Walburga growled. She anxiously looked out her window, shuddered at the height, and latched it shut, "You could've fallen, you fool!"

Orion gave her a hard look as he recovered his breath. "Like I wished to do it. You gave me no choice. I had to see you...you kept turning me away...trying to drive me mad-"

"You?! After what you did! You think….you...Urgh! And then putting _her_ up to-to distract me while you-"

"Actually, we didn't coordinate this," Lucretia offered. "I had to get out of the house. I go to visit my parents but _**he's**_ there...moping. And we _all_ know you're the cause."

"Me?! Nonononono! This is-is you!"

Orion drew himself up and took the accusing finger in stride with an easy smile. "Of course, darling. All me. You were so barely involved."

The mockery in his eyes made her warm...though whether it was simply irritation or...something more, she couldn't say.

"Why would you in-infringe on this? Don't you see this?" she motioned to all the years of sweetness in that film.

They were her comfort. Her bulwark in times of trouble. She wasn't a social butterfly what connections she had, she cherished.

"I see we need to take more photographs. Hard to take me seriously, I imagine, when your mental image of me is _**this**_." He held one up of the two of them having a tea party; she was eight, he was four.

His expression was dark as he flicked the photo away.

Walburga felt a stab of hurt.

It worsened when he unceremoniously shoved the photos off her bed to make a place for himself and his sister to sit. He indicated he wanted her to sit on his other side.

Walburga turned on her heel and swept out of the room and down the great stone stairs to the entryway.

All the dogs started barking when they realized she wasn't alone.

"We have company, Father!" she called out tersely.

He looked up from his newspaper, scoffed at the sight of Orion and Lucretia ambling after her, and didn't greet them.

"Sir," they bowed and curtseyed haphazardly to the Patriarch of their household as he ignored them.

He didn't look up, just scratched one great dog's ears as it sat beside him.

But that was Father for you.

It actually meant he was in a fair mood.

To her annoyance, they followed her into the library at a fast enough clip that she couldn't lock the doors behind her in time. She'd been hoping to hole up in there and wait them out.

"I mean, I understand why you distrust _him_ ," Lucretia offered. "He entered your bedroom probably hoping to snog you senseless."

"No!" Orion blurted and then relented. "...maybe...yes."

"But I'm your cousin, your friend, and a fellow female and I-"

"You're in league with him!" Walburga hissed.

Orion's eyebrows twitched. "It sounds so sinister when it's put like that."

Walburga tried to compose herself. "Look, all of that...shouldn't have happened."

He moved in front of her. "What did you kiss me back for, then?"

"I-I didn't kiss you again. I disapparated."

He came closer. "No. I kissed you and during said kiss, you kissed me back."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes, yes, yes. You did... _ **darling**_ ," the word was harder than the other times he'd said it but it still...

Her face felt like it could melt. She turned her back to him.

That was a mistake because he came up behind her and stroked her arms sensuously. "I know how kisses work, my love. Been on both the giving and receiving end. There's a very different quality to be had when someone kisses you and doesn't want to or when you're kissing them and they don't want it. And that...most definitely wasn't the impression I had..."

She really didn't want to discuss it. Or the Pandora's Box of sensations he'd gleefully opened then…or now for that matter.

She tried to ignore him and his cologne and the weird swirly feeling in her stomach. She crossed her arms and declared, "I think it'd be best if you both just lef-"

He rested his head in the space between her shoulder and neck and made her rue her decision to wear a dress that wasn't a button up to the neck. Too much flesh was touching. He gave off an almost alarming amount of warmth.

Everything in Black Manor was stone, still, cold. He didn't belong here.

"Though, if you don't feel like owning up to that part yet, I'll contain myself to this. Even though we both know the answer." He purred against her ear, "Did you enjoy it?"

She tried to shake him off. "I wasn't thinking!"

He laughed lightly and wrapped his arms loosely around her. If she wanted to break free she could...so why was she staying?

"Perfect! Precisely what I wanted to hear. In fact," he buried his nose against her skin. "I don't want you to think at all. I want you to feel."

She swallowed.

Too close.

He was entirely too close. It was inappropriate.

She turned her head to look at him and deliver a disapproving glare.

It made them even closer.

He smiled easily and her eyes lingered there.

 _The problem with you_ , she thought, _is that you're fatally handsome and you know it._

The only problem was...she didn't think it and said it instead.

He grinned in delight, "Oh I know, but I like to hear it! Especially from you. Tell me more lovely things. Nonono, don't! I don't want to use them all up at once. I don't have as many I'm sure. It's my turn. You're beautiful." He kissed the flesh near her shoulder. "You're brilliant." "You're strong." "You're dazzling." Each compliment was paid between kisses as he made his way up to her jaw.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

The room was getting awfully hot.

She needed to move away now.

Body move.

Move body!

He gently turned her in his arms and to her own dismay she angled her head up—part of her already hoping…

He'd said the next would be even better..didn't he?

She opened her eyes and found him smirking. "Tell me you enjoy it...my attentions, that is. Tell me it's so and I'll lavish you with them gladly."

He waited.

She wavered.

It'd be unwise.

It'd be terribly unwise.

It could ruin everything.

It would put them somewhere they'd never traversed.

It was a distraction!

A poor decision!

So why?

Why did she try to brush her lips over his the way he'd done days ago?

"Someone's a quick learner," he praised and leaned in.

"Ugh, I really didn't come for this," Lucretia muttered.

Without breaking the kiss, Orion pulled a book off the shelf and lobbed it at his sister.

"Alright, when you finish up here," Lucretia offered. "I'll be suffering in awkward silence with Pollux and the pack of dogs."

Later, Walburga wished she could say she remembered when Lucretia left or how long they were in there or something, but she really didn't think much about anything at all.

* * *

She was an idiot. And he was obnoxious.

She felt her cheeks heat as he boldly made eye contact.

He grinned and laughed lightly from across the bistro table and reached for her hand.

She shouldn't have kissed him or let him to-to her. And she definitely shouldn't have allowed it to keep happening.

His thumb rubbed her knuckles gently.

Because it was getting out of hand.

Now, he was starting to kiss her hello and goodbye. Where he used to wrap an arm around her shoulders to pull her from a crowded scene or hall (so she wouldn't be trampled by the masses), he now slipped his arms about her waist. He'd let his lips brush against her ear lingeringly when he made asides or jokes. He'd find excuses for them to touch.

During heated kisses on a divan, he'd pluck the pins out of her plaits and care not where they landed or how mussed she looked from having his hands in her hair.

And all the things they used to do together were...charged with an energy that hadn't been there before.

Part of her worried that it was some delirium of desperation. She had plenty to worry over. Her age, her lack of prospects, the dueling tournament, the stupid romance novels she'd started to read to try and figure out what the hell was wrong with her.

But the heroines all acted like this, this...unsure whooshy feeling was normal! Was to be expected! Sought after!

Walburga didn't like uncertain! Or spontaneous!

He brought her hand up and kissed the palm of it.

Alright. She did like that. That was gallant. That was like the medieval and Renaissance ballads she enjoyed. Little elegant gestures like that didn't send tongues wagging.

And it was rather sweet, if cliché, the way he'd proffer his arm now and when she curled hers with his, he'd lay his other hand over hers...securing it there.

And she didn't terribly mind the way he escorted her through Diagon Alley, always obliging to lift her over puddles and mud. Though...he held her much more snugly against him now than he had in previous assists.

But then he had to go too far!

Honestly, giving her an open mouth kiss in the middle of _Flourish & Blotts_ for all the world to see. Not even an attempt to hide behind a bookcase or better, restrain his passions until they were elsewhere!

It had taken Herculean effort not to slap him then and there for that. If he hadn't done that...that thing that he did that was new when he slanted his head against hers and his tongue...she might've slapped him anyways...probably. She probably should've slapped him.

She might need to slap herself to stop thinking about it.

"Everyone's going to-to-to speculate about us!" she hissed once they were in private at his office, because there were still reports to type and store.

"Good," he returned. And there was something about the triumph that smoldered in his eyes that set her off.

She glared. "Just because you haven't a reputation worth a knut doesn't mean I want mine worn ragged through a bunch of gossips' teeth."

"Marry me and there won't be a blemish on it."

"First, you were being impossible and now, you're being ridiculous."

He scowled. "Speak plain."

"Marry you?" she returned incredulous.

God, he couldn't be serious.

"Flirt that you are, as if I would ever agree to such an outlandish proposal. It's inconvenient enough that you're preying on my desperation to satisfy your unnatural hungers. But as if I'd set myself up for such humiliation at the altar. You...you'd be fancying half the ladies in the pews before the vows were done."

He went very white and then very red with anger. And he didn't speak for a long time. When he did, his volume was very low and rough, "...don't insult me like that again."

She crossed her arms and planted her feet. "How can it be an insult when I've seen you escort one lady to a ball and leave with another in the same night!?"

His nostrils flared and he growled, "...My feelings are sincere and I'll not have you sport with them-"

"Yes, yes. That's all very pretty to say-" She needn't imagine how many skirts swooned for that line. It would just make her feel the more foolish for letting it come to this.

"I warn you, woman, my temper is at its limit-"

That sounded a little more genuine but she wasn't about to quake.

"What care I for your temper? I don't fear it." Orion was a lamb. His side of the family was weak. They'd all suffered paroxysms of fright from witnessing Malfoy's training regiment. Like they'd never witnessed brutality in a day of their lives. Ha! Sheltered and weak.

Orion made a sound of wrath and crossed the room, intending to exit, but fury possessed him and he paused in the doorway there to turn back and hiss, "So you'll take my kisses and not my hand? What mad reason urges you thus? Because trust me, Walburga, if there was ever reason for scandal it's that!" He forced a breath and endeavored to be more level, though he was undeniably strained. "Take me seriously and it's courtship and you've nothing to fear. No disgrace will come to your name and all you value...I-I'd guard them...I'd guard _**you**_ with my life. W-with everything!"

"Well, forgive me if I don't like being defined in terms of chattel."

He made her sound like a castle and moat. A-a thing! A possession!

"What, because we've shared kisses you think that an everlasting, immovable claim? I'm yours now, am I? Now, you're the only suitor possible for me? What a dreadful hypocrite you are."

So many women at his feet. He got some sort of thrill in the surrender. And once they were fully used, he discarded them.

She knew his patterns. Had years of observation. And she was a quick study indeed. That's why she was always careful not to pull him too near during a kiss, to dig her fingers in his hair, or clutch his shoulders. It made him dangerously enthusiastic in his tender ministrations.

He'd known too many women. Knew the words and routes to the heart that made other women sigh.

He expected his fervent "I love you's" against her lips and throat to melt her into yielding.

Not a chance.

They were _**not**_ going that far. Ever.

This mess was her fault though.

She really shouldn't have indulged him...or herself. A pox on her newfound fleshly weakness, it had felt nice to be kissed and caressed and held…

She could see how her cousin had fallen into the trap of debauchery.

It was a dangerous mistake. And they were paying for it now. The physicality their relationship had taken on had translated into Orion now, quite obviously, feeling entitled to her.

She looked on him unflinchingly.

Rage wasn't a handsome expression on him. It quite ruined his complexion.

"So...so...what is it you're after...if not a husband?" he seethed.

"To be perfectly honest….I...I don't know!" she admitted. "I don't know if a husband is what I want anymore."

To be more honest, she wasn't sure if she said that simply because she was thinking it and it was such a foundation-shattering thought it slipped out. Or if it was because she was shocked to find that here when she had an opportunity for marriage she wasn't pouncing on it and felt some need to justify it. Or if it was because she was simply feeling spiteful and his assumption that he was some grand catch and doing her a favor needled her into vindictiveness.

It was different.

Before...she'd resigned herself to the idea that marriage might not be in the cards, as it were, for her. That fate and bad luck had descended and all prospects were lost. And she needed to move on or she'd spend the rest of her life lamenting on what hadn't happened for her.

But this…

This was...acknowledgment that...she had a choice in the matter. She didn't have to say yes to anyone who asked. Before it had seemed like...if only one asked, then he had to be _the one._

She was raised up on the notion, was weak to it, but...but...who was to say married life was so much better? She didn't like the whooshing uncertainty Orion had introduced into her life, let alone the idea of being owned. Some plaything of a spouse for a man to enjoy, especially if the one in question was her foolish fop of a cousin. He was in love with love. No, that was too generous. He was in love with lust.

He was stunned. He gave her a positively wounded expression that sunk her spirits low before disappearing into the hall.

She awkwardly finished typing up her report, set it on his desk, and then (unwilling to cross paths with anyone of the household) disapparated.

She arrived at the gate of her home and rested against the hard bars of it. She needed to…to...train or...something. Her next bout was sometime during the following week. She wouldn't know when until the newspaper released the next set of scheduled matches.

She needed to focus on that.

Near the end of the tournament, the intensity would increase. As the participants dwindled, the time between matches would shorten.

Yes. Training would...make sense.

She took a steadying breath and tried to ignore the feeling that she might've made a mistake. People of her distinguished family were supposed to make choices...never mistakes…

Training.

Yes.

She needed to train.

Gathering her wits and her skirts, she made her way inside intending to owl Malfoy.

* * *

"Damn you, Bathilda Bagshot!" Orion slurred as he knocked backed more whiskey and interrupted dinner for a second time cursing her name. "Hope you rot...suffer...you...you-" he hiccuped, "homewrecker."

"I do hope she's earned all that," Arcturus remarked wryly as he used his knife and fork. "And I'll take care not to get her autograph for you should our paths meet. I take it, you've had a trying day?"

Orion nodded and agreed. "...horrible. She...and then she...said...and I...so I said…" He buried his face in his hands.

"Bathilda Bagshot or Walburga?" Melania asked for clarification as she primly sipped from her wine glass.

"Walburga…" he muttered miserably as he looked up again. "She...she just...I…" He slapped a frustrated hand on the table and made all of their dining ware rattle.

Arcturus sighed, "Son, if she's not interested...then perhaps it's best to abandon this venture altogether and entertain new prospects. I'm certain your mother and I can make inquiry as to whether there are any daughters or debutantes whose temperaments and tastes will suit yours."

Orion grew agitated. "No. She's the woman I-"

"Sweetheart," Melania frowned and echoed her husband, "If she's not interested-"

"Not interested?" Lucretia squawked as she entered the room, having arrived late but picking up the gist of the topic at once. "I have it from a reliable source, they were snogging in _Flourish & Blotts_!"

Their parents were both startled by that tidbit, and Orion felt his face heat up as they gave him shocked looks.

"In public! Middle of the day? Orion!"

"That is scandalous. Especially for her!" Arcturus growled. "She's not one of those twittering trollops you flirt with at balls. That could injure her reputat-"

"Yes, I'm an idiot, I know... _I know_. But...now the way she's going on...about not being certain she even wants to be married...let alone to me…I...I don't know what...how to...I..."

Lucretia sat down and took the bottle of whiskey from Orion's side to pour some for herself into a glass. "Well, from what I heard. She didn't push you away, right? She could've made a scene. She could've acted like this was the first time you'd ever put forward such affections—won everyone's sympathy and painted you a lascivious cad. She didn't. She's...physically attracted to you. That's something, right?"

No.

No, it wasn't.

Wasn't nearly enough.

Not when he wanted her to _**love**_ him.

And his face must've shown his torment.

"Not so nice when you're on the other side of it, hmm? Orion, dear?" his mother scolded.

Arcturus had abandoned his meal in full astonishment of what he'd learned. "In _Flourish & Blotts_? Right there? In that crowded space? Where were you? There's hardly a place anywhere to stand comfortably let alone for—were you right in front of the cashier? Good God."

* * *

Read & Review Please : DDD


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

 **AN:** Hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Well-Worn Motions**

* * *

Orion tried to focus on the report in his hand but the sound of click-clacking buttons being pressed drew his eyes to the typist.

Walburga was intensely focused on her task and didn't spare him a glance in return.

It hurt to see her with her harsh words from the previous day still ringing in his ears.

He'd been shocked to find her in his office already at work. Considering his hangover and the general feeling of misery suffused through his being, he'd been tempted this morning to owl his appointments and reschedule.

But with her there...couldn't.

The 8 o'clock and 10 o'clock clients had come and gone and it was nearing lunch.

If he could scrounge some scrap of fortitude, he could ask her to accompany him to a restaurant and dismiss the other day as yet another misadventure in their disastrous courtship.

But…

Was he wasting his time pursuing her?

She didn't think much of him at all...that much was certain.

That morning, at breakfast, when he'd been sober enough to relay the full extent of their argument to his parents, their prior amusement swiftly changed to concern.

Walburga had all but spat on him—derisively dismissing his love as shallow, if not wholly false. And she'd laid out that marriage might not be in her future plans at all which effectively doomed his hopes of a having a household with her.

 _Arcturus shook his head slowly. "Orion...I think...you have your answer. Perhaps, it is time you renounce this quest. If she...Son, if she doesn't respect you, now...I can't see any reason you could expect her to after marriage even if you somehow convinced her to accept your hand."_

Perhaps, he'd told too much, too soon...that his hurt was too palpable as he confessed how little regard she had for him.

 _He watched the good humor in his mother's eyes drain and her mouth grew tense with disapproval._

 _He wished Lucretia was there, he had a fuzzy memory that she'd argued for Walburga the previous night...that Walburga's attraction to him was proof that she felt something...something more than friendship._

 _He clumsily tried to bring up the point._

 _But neither of his parents seemed moved._

 _His father kept sighing._

 _Melania simply reiterated what she'd said the previous night but in a colder, more solemn tone. Orion finally found himself on the other end. And then she expressed her sorrow that Walburga had used him thus._

That had forced him to re-evaluate various romantic rendezvous over the years.

He hadn't thought of himself as taking advantage, he'd been dallying with like-minded thrill seekers and even then he'd always been open (hopeful) that these encounters could flower into more meaningful relationships.

They just didn't.

Somewhere along the way, he would lose interest or they did, or incompatibility would rear its head and…

And he'd find himself seeking out Walburga who always shook her head in amusement following a break up and offered to take him out for a dessert, though he'd have to "earn it" by assisting her with her list of errands.

He'd thought it all terribly infantilizing as a Fifth Year but by age twenty, he came to appreciate her steadiness. And even though he'd repeatedly had to take her scoldings...she was never miserly with her sympathy.

It was what made their current predicament all the more awkward and frustrating.

She knew her skills were helpful to his business and so she appeared. To hell with his hurting heart!

He watched Walburga finish up the report and then cross the room to him.

She came beside his chair and then leaned against the desk. "Are you still cross with me?"

It was the flippant tone that spiked fury in him.

"Yes," he growled.

She sighed and set the stack of papers in a folder. She reached over and tried to set a hand on his shoulder. She usually did that before she scolded him.

And he was in no mood for it this day.

He brushed her off.

She crossed her arms, tried to hold his furious gaze, and failed. In a rare loss of composure, she noticeably fidgeted.

"I...I...am...sorry if my words...if the delivery of my words...injured you. The suddenness...might have made me more...perhaps if I'd had more time to reflect, I could've delivered my sentiments more..." she struggled "gently?"

"..."

Her eyes sought his. "Orion…?"

He couldn't contain himself.

"You think I'm a promiscuous lover and doomed to be a feckless husband," he hissed.

She winced. " _ **Doomed**_ might be a little strong, dear-"

"And I'm supposed to forget this?"

She blinked rapidly and then doubled down on being firmly disapproving. "N-no but… _look_ , you were the one who did the kiss-"

"You _**let**_ me kiss-"

She wrung her hands together in exasperation. "I _**know**_! I shouldn't have!"

"Then why did you? If I'm so loathsome-"

She set her hands on his arm. "O Orion, you're not lo-"

He wrenched his arm from her grasp. "Just go-"

"What?"

He shooed her away. "Go, I've no need of your services any longer, _**Ms.**_ Black."

Real hurt flashed across her features and it was such a rare and unexpected sight that his ire flagged.

Though still in a tone harder than he usually used with her, he more gently followed up with, "When you know your next career interest, tell me. I'll write you a recommendation."

She turned on her heel, her dress fanning with the movement.

"No need. So sorry to have been a waste of your time, _**Mr.**_ Black" was the icy reply before she disapparated with a loud and resounding _CRACK!_

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It was with great reluctance, Orion agreed to a restaurant outing with his parents and sister for the evening.

Admittedly, he'd been reclusive for the better part of the month. Business helped him orient himself in what was becoming a "new" life for him.

He pulled a chair out for his sister before taking his place on his father's right side.

As a chilled bottle of pinot grigio was presented and poured, Orion reflected that his mother was cunning. It just so happened that a friend of hers was conveniently accompanied by her very attractive daughter and seated at a table near them which prompted a move to a larger table across the room to accommodate their growing party size and allow for a pleasant meeting.

Leonora Selwyn was dark haired and petite with delicate wrists and an innocent expression. And it all worked in drawing out an instinctive protectiveness in him.

Not to mention, she had a lovely speaking voice and when it was mentioned she was an up and coming opera singer, he did not wonder at it a bit.

She was younger than him and blushed if he looked too intently at her.

She shyly complimented him on his smile and flushed when he praised her dulcet voice.

He would admit he felt a draw.

Maybe this was the opportunity he'd been—

Blast!

To his mortification, Walburga and Abraxas were seated at a table nearby.

"Your Jelly Legs Jinx needs work and you know it," Abraxas stated outright.

"Yes," she nodded readjusting the sleeves of a long coat that she ought to have taken off and had checked in at the front desk, "It's been too long. I think I'll do a drill for it tonight. I, however, noticed your Episkey spell-"

"That's not a combative spell. We're speaking-"

"I know! But it's useful and there's no rule against self-healing during a match-"

"I am not going to bother with doing a drill for Episkey-"

The server collected their menus and their orders and was on his way.

She glared at her companion. "O you men always take criticism too hard. You and the others love critiquing me, but when it's my turn to dole out much needed advice...Oh no! Run for the hills. If you only wanted flattery, be honest and don't broach such topics."

"You do it wrong. There's a formula: Praise, gentle criticism, _**more**_ praise."

"You don't do that with each other."

"Men don't have to do that with each other. Women have to do that with men."

"That's...ridiculous."

Malfoy sipped his goblet of wine and shrugged, "Yes. But that is how it is."

"Good Lord."

"You don't understand men."

She sighed and agreed, "I truly don't."

"I do hope you're not going to start moping again. It's good riddance, you will see."

"But it's monstrous inconvenient. I go out, I buy him handsome things, come home and remember we're not speaking. What am I to do with cologne and a money clip?" She ruffled through her purse. "And I still have one last stack of these business cards."

She set them on the table.

"Throw. Them. Away," Malfoy instructed as though speaking to a daft child. "You owe him nothing."

"But I designed them special. It was supposed to be a present. Time and expense was involved! I can't just..." She halved the stack. "Maybe Derek wouldn't mind if I left some here? I know his wife likes me, I'm a good customer, I can appeal to her if he resists."

Derek Fawley II was a longtime friend of Cygnus and Orion (having been a fellow Slytherin and dormmate of the two). His family had been in the restaurant business since the middle ages. And touches from that era were still here and there in the form of tapestries and scalloped draperies, and the name of the establishment: _Knight's Stronghold_.

The flying buttresses made it especially grand. Though the more modern amenities, like white tablecloths and cutlery and fine crystal chandeliers kept it from becoming some vulgar tourist trap espousing gaudy elements from a glorious history.

Balancing the Old with the New was the key.

Walburga started to stand up but Malfoy took the task upon himself.

"Oh, thank you, Brax."

"My pleasure."

He made a turn about the room and then casually tossed the business cards into the large fireplace.

"You're terrible," she deadpanned as she set the remaining cards back in her purse. "I'll never understand why you dislike him so."

"And have you asked him the same?"

Walburga pursed her lips a moment before admitting,"Actually...He was most forthcoming. He says...I really ought not to repeat it. It might worsen your relations-"

"I can take it."

"W-well, he finds you...brutal, self-serving, arrogant, and unkind."

"Is that all?"

"All that I'm willing to share."

He chuckled, "I daresay that is simply the gist?"

She colored, "There might have been more colorful phrases involved."

"Oh, I'm certain."

Walburga frowned. "I tell him you have other...more amiable qualities, but he does not believe me."

"Ah yes. And is it the same way you try to convince me of your cousin's supposed easy-going good nature...which I've never witnessed? Ever."

Orion felt his stomach flop—knowing for certain now that they were indeed discussing him.

"Orion is very sweet-tempered and genteel."

Full confirmation.

"Do you want us to go to a different venue?" Arcturus asked lowly, having discovered the reason for his son's sudden distraction.

Orion shook his head. No, he wasn't going to let them chase him off.

Malfoy scoffed, "He clearly isn't since he's cast you off."

Walburga gave her companion a withering look. "I didn't say he couldn't be moved into a dark humor. But _**I**_ did the moving. I am sure we will reconcile eventually."

And Orion felt his temper rise. So she just expected him to come crawling back?

She rested her head on her hand, breaking etiquette by not only having her elbow on the table but slouching. She toyed with a curl framing her face. "It may take a few years, but if there's anything I have in abundance, it's time. And he is my dearest friend...I can wait."

His heart twisted. It wasn't...it wasn't what he wanted...but…

The sincerity in her tone...

Wistful wasn't a word he usually associated with her. But the more he thought on it...

"And what am I, if not your dearest friend?" Lucius pressed.

"My friendly rival," she quipped with a sharp smile as she straightened up.

"I suppose it's a relief to at least be an equal," he shrugged.

That was the sum of it, wasn't it? Orion thought bitterly. She clearly had tender feelings for him but…

He thought of all the silly, long outdated photos of him she clung to.

She couldn't see him on the same footing as her. In that, at least, Malfoy had always had the upper hand.

Should he have been more competitive, more argumentative, more demanding as he'd grown up? Would that have forced her to see him as something more than a pitiful tag-along to indulge when it suited her?

He lost interest in the meal and the meeting his mother had sprung on him.

He tried to remain pleasant to Leonora, block out Abraxas, and move around the fish on his plate in such a way to seem like he was eating.

And then it happened, Walburga laughed too loudly and his family and their guests took notice of her.

All the color drained out of his mother's face and Lucretia fidgeted.

She'd been largely torn between their parents' newfound condemnation of her cousin and Orion's pathetic, lingering affection. And had as of yet made no indication for whose side she was on.

"Is that Walburga Black?" Mrs. Selwyn asked.

"The one in the dueling tournament?" Leonora inquired excitedly. "I saw her match last Thursday-"

"Leonora!? You-you went to that barbaric-"

The girl flushed, "Mama…"

"One and the same," Melania answered shortly.

"O come now, you must show me," Abraxas declared, leaning back in that arrogant fashion Orion had despised when they'd been at Hogwarts. Like he was some overlord or king. "Why else am I here? Go on."

Walburga shook her head resolutely. "Not until you swear...Not until...You...You must _**promise**_...not to laugh."

Malfoy smirked, "On my honor."

Walburga raised an eyebrow. "...forgive me, but I do think I'll need something more substantive-"

Malfoy laughed, "Fine. Twenty galleons."

"Fifty."

"Thirty."

"Seventy-Five."

"O have your way, then. I'll round it to a hundred. Now, show me."

Walburga gave a long suffering sigh and then left her seat. She undid her coat and set it on her chair.

Malfoy roared with laughter.

Walburga glowered. "You see?! You see! I knew you would! Can't trust you as far as I can throw you-"

"O hush. The money is yours, I'll go by Gringotts and have it transferred but-but-go on. Give us a turn."

She did and the garment fanned dangerously. It was a sleeveless tea dress and even at a standstill it flared far above her knees. It was beige and trimmed in black that matched the department badge that was sewn on the left near the collar.

Considering the time of year, Orion no longer wondered at her having worn the coat in; she had to be freezing!

"I always wondered what the official female uniform of that department was," Malfoy stated idly. "And why it wasn't usually worn."

Walburga plucked at it in distaste. "Ridiculous, isn't it? I may just ask for the men's one and perform alterations myself. I mean, can you imagine me in the field in this?"

"Maybe it's a strategy? Mayhaps a well-timed cocktail will tempt a vampire into behaving? Or! They're going the Grecian route and plan to chain you to the cliff to stave off Cetus' wrath-"

"Thank, Brax. That sets my mind at ease."

"Perhaps, you'll fare better? Like Psyche? Offered up at the foot of the mountain?"

"Doubt it."

"I won't deny it though. I am surprised by your choice. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures...what a mouthful! That's not going to be fun for me to say when I introduce you to others. No, not where I would've placed you in the Ministry. Now, I know I keep forgetting to ask...which division?"

"Beast."

"Hmm, you ought to be transferred to the Goblin Liaison office. Goblins are always fond of you. You've an eye for metals, they respect that."

"I thought about it, but it's just...I already have so much experience with beasts and-what?"

"What?"

"You have a look."

"I don't know, I suppose I expected a cruel joke about my company right then."

She laughed appreciatively, "I...I mean, I've assisted Father with his assignments for a long time."

Malfoy stilled and Orion craned his neck for a better view.

Malfoy's tone grew cold. "Define 'assist.'"

"You know?" Walburga shrugged. "Charting and tracking, researching, supply ordering, and I do accompany Father when necessary. And good Lord, all the paperwork-"

"And your signature is on the reports?"

"Well yes, Father just can't be bothered sometimes. Most times. Better my signature than none. I mean, they send so much. If I didn't read through and select what was most important, Father would bypass it altogether. He is so stubborn. It's tiresome. I-"

"And they know you do this?"

"They don't mind my standing in as a proxy. I've already attended quite a few meetings on his behalf through the years-"

"So there's paperwork in their records with your signatures and the staff know you take on workloads-"

"Yes, why?"

"What year?"

"Beg pardon?"

"When did you start _**assisting**_?" he demanded impatiently.

"Well, I-Oh yes. I was freshly fourteen. I remember, because I had just received a very lovely bracelet from Orion and his sister for my birthday and Father said not to wear it. But I did and it got dented. O I was devastated and then I had to come up with an excuse for why I wasn't wear-"

"Walburga!"

"Hmm?"

"I will get this sorted out," he vowed.

"Wot?"

"You've sixteen years of back pay, and I'll get it." he promised with a dark look in his eye. He checked his pocket watch. "I'll go now, catch Reuben before he tries to leave early. I'll owl you to keep you abreast of the situation."

And now Malfoy got to play the hero. Orion's spirits plummeted further. Why hadn't he thought to investigate her part in her father's work?

She straightened up with alarm. "O, that's alright. It can wait, I'm sure. I'm absolutely sure of it. Abraxas! Do stay."

Orion felt a God awful pang at that. There was so much scandal there. And she didn't care. She knew who she wanted. Society's rules be damned.

Damnation! He was so jealous, he could hardly see straight-

"Please?" she begged.

The blond was already walking away.

She clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest beseechingly. "Abraxas, stay with me!"

Orion was sure he bent the silver cutlery in his hands and he'd make it a point to reimburse Derek for the loss.

She threw a desperate hand forward and half chased him across the room. "Wait no! That's not why I asked you here-"

Orion was going to lose it. She was going to declare her love and ruin herself and Malfoy-

Orion blinked.

Malfoy didn't spare her another glance and promptly disapparated.

Walburga's shoulders sagged.

Orion felt his father rest a consoling hand on his shoulder.

Walburga stared unhappily at where her companion had disappeared. "Brax…"

Orion tried to focus on his breathing, aware that there was blood rushing angrily through his ears.

"Brax...you inconsiderate arse-"

Arcturus choked and Orion dropped the fork in his hand.

"Ma'am?" An aged waiter appeared beside Walburga looking apologetic, "I...I'm so sorry...Your first appointment is early."

"Right," she grimaced and then set a hand on her hip. "Any recommendations?"

"A scotch, maybe," he muttered.

She mulled that over and then agreed, "Yes. Yes, do that. And Cyrus?"

"Ma'am?" the server nodded.

"Do leave the bottle when you make your return."

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Walburga took a steadying breath and continued reading out her department's statement as neutrally as possible: "-thus obstructing exterminators from performing their duties which in turn endangered the inhabitants of your own village as well as the neighboring muggle town of Arlesey-"

"They were trespassing on my lands!" the man growled, jowls moving. He crooked a knobbled finger at her. "And they got what was coming to them-"

"Mr. Lowell," She held up her hand. "Please refrain from interrupting. Or I will lose my place and have to start over. From the top. I will take questions and statements after reading the report in its entirety. Now, on the date in question, you are posited as physically intervening. As in, you assaulted one member of the squad-"

The man reached across the table to touch the tips of her nails, "Got quite the claws on you, eh, Kitten?"

She withdrew her hand and felt her lip curl.

Pervert.

Damn Malfoy to the depths for abandoning her to this.

"Ya know?" Mr. Lowell licked his lips. "If you wanna see where this _incident_ took place, I could show yeh. Personally."

Walburga stared. "I'm going to mark down that you understand the charges being levelled against you and the matter will proceed before the Wizengamot for a ruling."

The next appointment wasn't much better.

The woman was horse-faced and the more angry she got, the more her nostrils flared.

Walburga half-expected for her to rear up or kick.

It was hard to believe she'd once been a member of their prestigious line. Walburga hadn't even recognized her once-cousin. It took reading the name on the sheet of her clipboard twice before she'd realized their shared blood.

True, she'd been a good six years older than Walburga and on her last year of Hogwarts whilst Walburga was starting her first.

But she'd never felt so removed from the Blood Traitor as she did now.

There was nothing elegant left in her face let alone her manners.

And three sons? Or was it four? Did a number on her figure...she certainly didn't resemble the one oval portrait they'd spared of her for posterity.

She felt more pity than contempt at the sight of her fallen kinswoman.

Mrs. Cedrella Weasley…

Who'd once been Miss Cedrella Black…

Mrs. Weasley huffed, "I just think it's terrible that your department would keep hippogriffs in a place where children live nearby. Why, if my boys had come to harm in their rampage, I swear I would personally dismantle your department faster than you can say-"

"Madam, we have three eyewitnesses who saw your children antagonize the beasts with fireworks and magic open that padlock. You understand that makes them and yourself liable for damages caused. And had any injury occurred, again, you and yours would have been deemed wholly responsible for the-"

"How _**dare**_ you accuse my angels-"

By the time she was meeting with her fifth and final appointment, she'd had far more drinks than was wise.

She had an elbow on the table and was resting her head unabashedly on her left hand as she sipped straight from the bottle of whiskey. Earlier, Mrs. Weasley had left in such a rage her ample hip bumped the table and sent the poor glass tumbling to its doom.

Walburga made do.

Mr. Thompson was a protester advocating erkling rights and he'd foisted enough flyers and pamphlets on her that Walburga could kindle a blaze.

"They have just as much right to exist as wizard and muggle kind. They're Beings! Sentient! And yet your department hunts them to near extinction and forbids them opportunities to expand into more fertile hunting ground!"

She took a swig of scotch and clucked her tongue. "And the fact that they eat children and infants makes...no nevermind to you?"

"Our numbers have swelled! We're infringing on territories that are theirs by ancestral right."

"So you're...alright with their diet preferences?"

"The Ministry is culling their numbers and you don't care! You-you-you! You're part of the problem! You're soulless!"

She'd gotten that one six times today. She made a mental note for the future to take shots each time she heard it.

"I expect so," she replied saucily. "What can I say? It was late. There was alcohol. The other witches dared me to French a dementor." She smirked and delivered in a dramatic, sultry whisper: "And I did."

There was stunned silence for a moment and then—

"Are you mocking me, madam?"

"Sir, I think your appointment has well and truly ended. It's half past twelve," a suave, familiar voice cut in. "The lady has accepted your fliers and will run them by her supervisor."

"I want her to sign my petition! And you! Erkling lives are being impacted by the tyrannical reign of-"

"The answer is a firm no...from us both, sir. Now, if you'll excuse us. The lady and I must be go-"

"I-"

Orion's voice dipped into something deeper and far less civil, "I will personally acquaint you with the door if you don't make haste and depart."

The man swore vehemently at them both but Orion's aggressive step forward sent him ambling away, more fliers leaking from his knapsack as he rushed away.

And she blinked wonderingly at that. She'd never known her mild cousin to be quite so forceful.

Well, it was awfully late. He could get tetchy when he needed rest. She most definitely did.

Though most of her ill mood had dissipated on seeing him. It was so unexpected. And-and-and good. It was good. Very good.

"Orion!" she greeted with a grin.

He gave her a strained and distracted smile, making sure her last client was well and truly away before turning completely toward her.

"How good to see you!" She shakily climbed to her feet relying on the table more than she would've liked. "I-thank you for that. Just now." She tried to straighten a few of her curls and nearly knocked off her hat. "I mean, I'm-I, er, I'm certain I'd have managed somehow but...thank you. Truly. Thanks. He was getting a bit out of hand and I-I...I didn't think you came here during the week? That you preferred Saturdays? I come during the week. I know it's a bit of a spectacle but...it is safer, I think, than meeting with them elsewhere-"

She dug around in her purse for her pocketbook.

"I've already paid your bill."

"Wot? You...O Orion, you...you shouldn't've done that. I mean, already you...I tried to owl you some time ago. A mixup. And when I came by your home your Mother, goodness! What a mood! But, you're here now."

"Come along, let's...let's get you home. I've a carriage waiting for us."

He helped her with her coat and seemed displeased that she'd foregone a cloak that evening.

Her coordination was a bit off as she left the restaurant, made her farewells to the owner and his wife only as the door was closing behind her, and descended the stairs of the entrance nearly backwards (missing one step altogether and landing well by sheer luck).

It was amusing how Orion seemed convinced that a good fall would shatter her like glass. There was a sharp inhalation from him each time she stumbled.

Goodness. He was melodramatic. A good fall and a little embarrassment would have gone a long way to sobering her up.

He finally deemed her incapable of going the last ten paces and practically carried her into the carriage.

He set her down gently and fastened his cloak about her.

She couldn't decline when there was gooseflesh on her arms and the night air had set her teeth to chattering.

It took her a while to reclaim her train of thought: "I just-I just mean, you never got around to-to fully terminating me. Your account is still transferring regular amounts to mine."

He blinked.

"I can get you the sum though," she offered.

"..."

Maybe he didn't hear her? Or she slurred that a bit?

She tried to speak more clearly, "I...I can get you-"

"...I might have a stack of papers you could type up in return for me. And we would be even."

"Good!" Her mood brightened and she laughed lightly, "Couldn't replace me so easily, hm?"

"...I see you've a uniform and are working elsewhere."

"Yes, going to congratulate me? You know, I did do well on my N.E.W.T.s, they might've been forever ago. But I did do well. My supervisors were surprised when they read my résumé."

"...do you enjoy your new surroundings?"

She ran a hand through her hair, knocking pins loose. "They're not terrible though…"

She got to chatting about how cold they kept the office where she was currently working.

"I...I think it's an initiation of some sort. A hazing as it were. But Cyg disagrees. He gave me a frumpy jumper to end it. He says it's enchanted! I...I don't know if it really is though."

Orion nodded during her various anecdotes.

And she was giving her all to tell the best ones. To be charming and interesting, the way he usually was in their previous interactions...

Because she better understood it as a skill now; being amiable.

Her three disastrous dates in the past month had taught her that the hard way.

Some were born with it as a quality, that was true, but others could improve it as a skill.

One had to work at it though.

Only, he seemed so subdued and she worried that she still wasn't very good at leading a pleasant conversation.

He couldn't still be glum over their argument?

That was ages and ages...and ages ago! Three weeks at least! The month was ending! And it had been a very hard month. Even when he'd been away at school, communication between them never ceased. They had owled constantly. To the point where they had to make use of others' owls so as not to push theirs past exhaustion.

She ran her hand up and down his forearm soothingly, perhaps instinctively acting on some of the advice from all the magazines she'd started reading.

When he asked what she was doing, she relayed that. They'd all said men liked physical contact.

He'd given her such a long stare in return she faltered and felt bidden to add, "If you don't like it, I'll stop."

"..." he sighed and surprised her by resting his head in her lap, seemingly defeated.

She ran her fingers through his hair much as she had when they were young and he'd come to her upset about various trivialities; nightmares, arguments, quidditch losses, and the like.

And all those memories soothed her, settled them back into a comfortable, familiar place.

She trailed her nails in designs against his scalp and listened to his breaths even out and become deeper.

When the carriage stopped outside her home, he murmured softly, hoarsely, "I missed you."

So many times she'd heard that over the years.

And wasn't it a delight to hear it once more?

She felt a warm airy feeling flutter through her being and there was laughter in her voice and alcohol in her blood as she quipped, "Of course you have."

She tapped her hands playfully on his shoulders, leaned over, and dropped an impish kiss on him as she'd been wont to do when she'd been a girl without a care for propriety.

Before their family had stepped in and outlined all the things that brought her joy and forbade her from them.

He sat up sharply and she flounced away—barely remembering her purse, forgetting about his cloak (which was still about her), and half-reliving chases from the past when he'd sometimes get annoyed by her affection because it made her brothers tease him and he'd try to tackle her and tickle her as punishment.

She took the porch steps two at a time and heaved open the front door.

She turned and waved farewell while he stared after in her bewilderment, standing on the carriage step as if confused on whether to follow her.

She shut the door.

And laughed to herself over his strange, almost comical, expression.

It wouldn't be until she was slipping into bed that she'd dwell more on the look he'd given her.

She giggled again.

It wasn't so odd, was it?

She'd often ended such sessions with a kiss.

She blew out her candle and pulled her covers up.

Yes, she'd often done so.

She'd tap her hands on his shoulders to signal she was finished.

There'd often be a pout or a request for five more minutes of attention. And she'd give him a chaste kiss to his forehead before unceremoniously moving her legs out from under him and laughing when he cursed her. It was just so funny hearing an adult word uttered with his childish lisp.

She giggled again.

Yes, she'd gone through all the same, well-worn motions.

Playing with his hair, touching his shoulders, leaning over and bestowing—

She gasped as she realized what she'd done differently this go around.

She'd kissed him...alright…

But she'd….kissed him...on the lips...

* * *

Read & Review Please! : D


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer** : I do not own the HP universe that's J.K. Rowling's domain.

 **AN:** Hope you enjoy! :D

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Missing Its Usual Warmth And Charm**

* * *

Walburga was running late.

Somehow she'd slept through the grandfather clock's chiming that morning and it took Kreacher loudly clearing his throat four times for her to take notice of him.

She blamed the alcohol.

It was usually her wish to arrive a good fifteen minutes early so she could find an assignment that wouldn't require her to stay in the overly cold office or do the opening procedure.

Her nails were just long enough that it made maneuvering the set of keys problematic.

And if all that wasn't enough, she had an errant curl that kept slipping from its pins.

It was a mistake to try and fix it while she climbed the stairs. Her divided attention resulted in her foot slipping and her other hand missing the railing.

She braced herself for a fall and barely managed a gasp when two arms caught her from behind and settled her back on her feet.

The arms didn't release her and she was about to reach for her wand when—

"It's me," Orion assured.

"O-oh," she slumped in relief against him.

He laughed lightly and gave her a squeeze. "Luckily for you, I was on my way to pay a bill."

It seemed a good deal too lucky, but it was absurd and beyond vain to imagine he'd been waiting for her here.

"I see you've yet to take my advice on not wearing ridiculous shoes."

Her nose wrinkled at the light scolding, but she thanked him for his aid, confessing, "I'd be in a poor way without you."

He grinned.

And the gleam of white teeth elevated her mood.

It was such a relief to see him as upbeat as he'd once been.

She was so used to arguments between them lasting mere hours that the weeks apart had been especially brutal.

The loneliness made sense; it was the boredom that was surprisingly gutting.

She'd trained to her heart's content, acquired a new occupation, decorated and redecorated her living quarters, got around to finally interacting with the youngest house-elves' of Black Manor, took inventory of her family's heirlooms, made a bet with Cygnus over when his third child would arrive, and now knew several goblins at Gringotts by name.

She belatedly realized that she was still leaning against him and that they were halfway up a set of stairs.

Goodness, it was only the early hour that saved them from being a public obstruction and nuisance...and scandal.

Still, it was hard to be sensible when all seemed miraculously mended between them and she found herself laughing at his jokes as they walked arm and arm down the hall.

Years ago they'd spent Hogwarts afternoons strolling around the lake with an easy air like this.

She'd once had the quicker pace of the two of them and then he'd started growing and it was her that was struggling to keep up until she finally snapped at him to slow down for her and…she'd never needed to repeat the request.

He hesitated a moment and then said, "About last night-"

"Last night?" she cut across.

His head jerked to the side to look at her.

"Oh! Oh yes, thank you for helping me home. I...it...I'm sorry my memory is...rather fuzzy. How embarrassing. I drank far too much, I fear."

"I see."

It was just...safer to deny. She hadn't intentionally kissed him...had she? It happened but…but…but…

He gave her a very flat expression and his cheer left him.

She cast about for a pleasant topic, hoping to reinvigorate his happiness, but caught sight of Lowell. God, he repulsed her. She unintentionally drifted closer to Orion and nearly tripped him.

"What is it?" Orion asked, annoyed.

It was stupid to get upset over a tone, but she couldn't help feeling jarred by his change of attitude.

"That man," she murmured.

"What of him?"

She frowned at his harshness, but he still obliged her by moving forward and angling his form so as to block her from the other man's view.

"That horrid man-"

"What do you wish me to do about it, woman?"

She frowned; a word of consternation to the appalling Lowell might have been useful.

However, it seemed like she'd need to orchestrate something, "Well, I need you to do something about him, obviously."

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Fine, I…" she sighed and then mused, "Well, he hasn't met either of my brothers. Perhaps you can impers-"

He gave her such a look then that she didn't dare continue.

"Well then, you come up with something if you're so clever!" she hissed. Or tried to. She was still too upset over his mercurial mood, for it to sound as menacing and dismissive as she intended.

"..."

"Miss Black," Lowell addressed her.

He wasn't going to help her.

She released his arm and turned on her heel toward her office door.

"Miss Black," Lowell leered, eyes raking her form.

Her footstep faltered and she moved a half-step back.

She'd been warned repeatedly not to react with anger to their patrons even when they were entirely inappropriate to her.

It was worse than the muzzling they did to the beasts they handled in her division.

Having to stand and smile and ignore and—

"Walburga," Orion called and she gratefully turned back around.

He moved swiftly to her.

"Now darling, I know you wish to be proper for the Ministry's sake but..." His voice was still hard but he gently took her hand and kissed the knuckles and she felt warmth flood her cheeks. Why did she have to find that so pleasing!? "Why the doors aren't even open yet, surely no one would begrudge us-"

He kissed her.

And it was nothing like the other kisses he'd given her.

It was sudden, hard, and demanding.

There'd always been something uncomfortable about her previous "lessons."

His movements had always been so practiced and smooth. She would ever be the novice.

There was something about the imperfection of the current kiss.

In the heat and violence of it that oddly enough gave her a sense of confidence.

She could probably give a kiss like this.

And it seemed far more tangible and genuine than one of those soft ones that was so easy to mess up.

He'd said there were different kinds…

That each had a quality to it.

She could feel it.

Where'd there been restraint before…there was something new, wild, frustrated.

Nearly angry.

And he used his teeth.

Good Lord.

Her toes curled in her shoes.

His breath was harsh as he pulled away

And she stared openly at him.

His tone was still harsh even while the words were kind. "Don't work too hard now, my dear. Dinner shall be at 8." He moved close to her ear and purred in a loud whisper. "I do hope you'll wear that velvet gown I bought you."

She managed a nod.

And with a loud CRACK! He disapparated.

In a daze, she let herself into the office and hardly noticed when the door hit Lowell in the face or when her coworker barked at her to grab incident forms.

And when one of her coworkers did pull her aside to ask, "Who was that? The-the one who-who-"

She could only breathlessly mumble, "O-orion."

* * *

She arrived at ten til eight and nearly fidgeted as a house elf received her into Black Hall.

For a moment it seemed like she was going to be sent away again (as had been the norm since her falling out with Orion).

His family had unanimously agreed to give her the cold shoulder since her rejection of Orion's suit.

Perhaps, this was part of a mean trick.

She'd known it might take a great deal to win her way back into his good graces.

The magazines she'd read pretty much confirmed she'd handled the whole spectacle badly. Said she'd hurt his pride as a man.

Relationships were so damned complicated.

She scanned the windows for a flutter of curtains.

Just when she was about to excuse herself, Orion intercepted her, dismissing the servant and leaning against the door frame.

"I wasn't sure you would accept my invitation," he admitted. "Mother wasn't keen on setting you a place."

No pleasantries then.

Fine.

And they weren't dining out.

Joy.

She was about to have a very awkward meal among hostile relatives. An evening in a snake pit, really.

But if that was what it took to restore their friendship. So be it.

She held her head high. "It was couched in rather confusing terms, I will confess."

He looked away for a moment and she waited to be invited in.

"We have business to discuss. You mentioned your willingness to return as my secretary and I have need for your typing skills."

"Right."

Right...she hazily remembered agreeing to that.

"O, so you remember that?" he snapped.

She would not flinch. "…yes."

Dark gray eyes gave her another hard, searching look.

Business was...good.

Sensible.

Safe.

She took in a deep breath.

He moved aside to let her in.

"Thank you for your assistance earlier," she stated primly.

Best to get that out of the way.

He gave a bored nod.

She forced a smile, "It was unorthodox-"

"My signature," he quipped,

"But effective," she conceded as she removed her cloak for the house elves to take and tried not to feel embarrassed over her wardrobe choice.

She'd taken him too literally. The Beverly velvet maxi dress that clung to her curves and had a scandalous, by her standards, slit up past the knee was now obviously a detail of theatrical banter.

It had made them seem more intimate in front of Lowell.

It hadn't actually been a real request.

Several years ago, after parading a long line of gowns, she ultimately chose what would become her lucky green satin dress. She'd declared it as the most elegant by far.

Orion thought otherwise.

She bought the satin dress, he bought the black velvet one for her...and she retired the racy thing to a far corner of her closet.

She caught of her reflection in a mirror lining the hall. She didn't know what possessed her to actually process his request as legitimate, let alone what moved her to fulfill it.

That heat she'd felt when he—

No, it wasn't that.

Maybe she was so ecstatic that Lowell didn't speak to her at all that morning, that she gladly donned it that evening?

It seemed well worth the price.

She was an idiot.

A stupid, overdressed, or maybe underdressed, over-exposed certainly-

"You look beautiful."

Heat rose to her face and with difficulty she looked him in the eye to make sure he wasn't mocking her.

He'd sounded sincere.

"It seems in good shape. And all this time, I wondered if you even kept it."

She frowned, "I keep all of your gifts."

"Except the emerald you lost."

"That was an accident!" she snapped. "I was twelve! I searched for hours."

Months.

Actually.

But that sounded pitiful and sad and unworthy of someone of her reputation.

His lips twisted, "It still bothers you then?"

"No," she lied through gritted teeth.

He gave another smile…but it was missing its usual warmth and charm.

* * *

It was a little odd being seated beside Orion rather than across from him, but she felt she adapted fairly well.

So this was an official courting dinner?

Her father had never bothered with them for Cygnus and Druella. And neither she nor Alphard had ever merited the need for one.

She had a strong suspicion that her middle sibling had fancied someone unsuitable and, judging from his ensuing bitterness, either nipped it for the family's sake or...the opportunity to act on his desires passed.

They hadn't missed out.

The dinner was rather dull and her dress was in terrible taste.

She felt numerous eyes on her at all times. Walburga's introduction to the Selwyns failed to alleviate the tension...even though Arcturus and Melania went out of their way to emphasize her familial relation to them.

Everything was being taken so seriously, it felt rather like a romance novel or one of those radio soap operas she'd recently taken up listening to in order to fill the hours.

She was rather disappointed in herself when she didn't feel jealous. That would've made the night more interesting.

Leonora or Nora, as she insisted they address her, was a fair wisp of a thing. She spoke politely and was the apple of her parents' eye to be sure.

Walburga noticed that they were near the same height but the girl (and she was a girl, Walburga felt old beside her) was delicate—made of glass, whereas Walburga was made of iron.

It was clear Nora was smitten with Orion already, turning pink when he addressed her or looked her fully in the face.

It was a damsel-like sensitivity Walburga read about in books...and never known personally.

Very ladylike.

She could see the appeal, why men might like that.

Walburga might've envied her on that account, that being demure came so naturally to her, if it hadn't been for the shine of admiration in her eye.

She asked about the tournament with unabashed interest and Walburga couldn't detect an ulterior motive. Not the way Druella was compelled by Cygnus to ask after Walburga's pursuits now and then.

In the weeks of her and Orion's falling out, she'd been forced to seek her brother's house out more often than she liked. Or be resolved to haunt Black Manor in total isolation.

Her father's assignments had amassed to a point where he was seldom home.

Mr. Selwyn worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And his wife was only too pleased to tell about how proud it made her and how certain she was that the wizarding world was a safer place because of her husband's influence.

Which was sweet the first three times and a bore by the seventh. She couldn't imagine singing a husband's praises so incessantly...or keeping a straight face while doing so.

As far as she could tell, Orion hadn't said anything too bold, wasn't trying to play footsie, and hadn't remarked on Leonora's appearance beyond a courteous, "You look lovely."

He was making a real effort to try and learn about the young witch's interests.

She was pleased to see her cousin conduct himself admirably. Even as it gave her a funny feeling of loss. Which was ridiculous. He was maturing. She was glad for that. Of course she was.

At any rate, he was doing far better than her recent suitors had.

There was the wizard at the gym whom she shouldn't have agreed to lunch with. But she'd liked the look of him and his strong arms and chest and realized mid-meal that was all he was good for: looking at. Because there wasn't a shred of intelligence or even fluff in between those ears. And he'd turned out to be a half-blood anyway. A halfblood who only paid his half of the meal...and she was introduced to the concept of "Going Dutch."

Next, there was Roderick Knowles, a Floo Network Regulator, who wasn't nearly as handsome as Roger, the gym wizard had been. Roderick was easily cleverer and had a plethora of interesting stories about alerting officials to various illegal activities, but that was all he had. He was a workaholic and everything revolved around his job. She had a feeling he seldom went home and fantasized that he slept in his cubicle in a drawer he'd converted into a bedroom.

The way he'd kept an eye on the clock every moment they were at lunch suggested she'd never be his truest priority.

Zachariah Travers was tall and leaner than what she found attractive but he dressed well. He made fair conversation and he acted respectful to her. He asked her to dinner after one of her matches, a particularly brutal one, to her surprise. There'd been several large tears to her dress and splatters of blood on it. Plus, she'd been struck in the face and couldn't imagine she looked especially alluring. Still, he had insisted she deserved a celebration for her victory. At first, she was pleased to find him so interested in her wandwork and her battle techniques (nowhere near as squeamish about blood and bruises as Orion was). But as they continued on there was something...off about him though she couldn't tell what. She shrugged it off again.

It probably wasn't important. Or at least, it wasn't as interesting as her theory.

As a whole of her recent dating experiences, she deduced that men seemed to believe, following a meal date, that romance could be kindled. She had thus endured three post-meal kisses.

One that was wet.

One that was dry.

And one that she'd thought of as passable...though it was a bit disconcerting that Travers's pale eyes had remained fully open.

Still, his kiss had sent lukewarm pleasant feelings through her and the dinner had been agreeable enough for her not to shoot him down. She remained on the fence about accepting his proposal for a second date. Had delayed it by saying she would let him know when her schedule opened up.

She had to train for the tournament. His eyes had shone with a strange light and he said he looked forward to her next match.

She wasn't against seeing him again per se...she just wasn't excited about seeing him again either.

The way she figured things, romance was like birdhouse building for snidgets.

Yes; plenty of people weren't particularly good at it.

She was hardly alone. She just wasn't a strongly romantic person and that was alright.

There'd be other aspects of a relationship she could enjoy. Like planning outfits for a ball, or holding interesting conversations, or buying useful things for her significant other, or dining together in beautiful places.

Yes, she'd learn to make sense of it.

Overall, her evening at Black Hall wasn't terrible though it was irritating that she was somehow overlooked for champagne at dinner and then forgotten again by the house elves when they served lavender panna cotta and didn't offer her any port.

It left her sipping water the whole evening!

She didn't dare complain and irk her hosts who seemed dangerously ready to oust her at a moment's notice.

She kept waiting for Orion to broach the topic of business with her, but it didn't seem to be coming and Arcturus kept looking at the clock and her.

When the hour grew sufficiently late, she announced her intent to depart for home with an easy lie that her father would worry if she tarried longer.

It was telling that relations were still cold because she wasn't accompanied to the door and the house elves were late in delivering her cloak to her.

She fastened the buckle, opened the door herself and strode out determinedly into the autumn chilled air. She flicked her wand to shut the door and frowned when she didn't hear it shut.

She turned to see Orion at the door, holding it.

"Walburga!" he called. "You…"

She re-climbed the stairs of the porch.

He sighed, "You did look beautiful this evening...as lovely as when you first wore that dress."

Considering how many years ago that was...she smiled.

He leaned forward like he was going to say more but a sharp "Orion!" from Melania drew him back.

He gave a short, annoyed, "Sorry, a later time perhaps?" and closed the door.

Yes, it was some sort of initiation through frustration. At some point she'd have endured enough infuriating oddness, that she'd be absolved of her trespasses and wrongs. That had to be it.

Feeling reassured by the night's events, Walburga turned back around and disapparated.

* * *

Orion watched his mother pace in front of the fireplace.

"The hell was she playing at? Wearing a dress so, so, so-"

"That was my doing, Mother."

She gave him a very disapproving look.

"Earlier, I suggested it. I don't think she realized I was teasing her. I had assumed she'd purged it from her wardrobe years ago. She proved me wrong."

Trust her to wear it when he couldn't properly appreciate her in it. God, it had been torture keeping his eyes off her.

With his luck, he'd probably dream about her wearing it this night. And then there was the fact that she'd worn it _for_ him.

Cruel woman, she driving him mad!

First, she'd had the gall to lie to him. She remembered the kiss she bestowed and he'd get her to confess.

He had to.

She'd finally managed a good one—soft, gentle, languid. There was something sweet and indulgent about it as she'd moved.

It was damn-near perfect. A little tongue and he'd have proposed again on catching his breath.

But then she ran.

Ugh, she was toying with him.

Her eyes had been too wide and innocent and her voice too puzzled to leave room for doubt.

When Walburga didn't know something, she was blunt in telling one so.

His mother's voice went sharp. "You saw her earlier?"

He nodded. "When I was paying the bill-"

"Why would you stop by her-"

"I didn't, she works there-"

Melania looked startled. "She works at the-"

"No, she was traveling to her department. She...she, er, tripped, I caught her-"

"Staged!?" Melania gasped.

Orion snickered.

He wished. It would be too miraculous if she'd seen him first and wanted his attentions and went the damsel route to stroke his ego. "I doubt it; she nearly drew her wand on me."

"O why did you invite her?" She wrung her hands fretfully.

He felt his jaw clench. He hadn't known his mother's scheme to spring a courting dinner. And had planned on using the evening to corner Walburga and extract the truth.

And maybe apologize for being so brutish earlier.

He'd lost himself, his control, that morning. So fed up with their situation…and her denials…and then her expectations…

Poor impulse control really did not aid his arguments that he was mature and ready for a relationship of magnitude.

He was better than that.

Still, it was something that him snogging her senseless outside her office hadn't put her off seeing him at dinner.

He needed to sort things out with her. Alone.

Had their time apart awakened her to what she was missing out on?

She had been genuinely glad to see him the previous night (inebriated as she'd been) and this morning (despite being terribly hungover).

She was trying to be nicer to him. He noticed that.

Wanting to be agreeable when she spoke with him…

Staying largely silent at the dinner party rather than blaring out a bold opinion…

Turning around too quickly the first time he called her name…

"..."

"Let. Her. Go," Melania demanded. "She causes nothing but trouble for you and-and-and pain."

"..."

His mother grasped his hand rather desperately. "I want to see you happy and settled."

So did he, damn it.

He was tired of being jealous as all the other wizards of his social circles became husbands or fathers.

If Cygnus dared complain about his lot and his quest for a son one more time…

When Orion would've given _anything_ for Walburga to stand gladly at his side and a daughter would've made him the happiest father…

Orion's teeth gritted.

Lucretia flopped onto a chaise lounge. "Rye?"

"Wot?"

She raised an eyebrow at his sour tone.

He released a long breath and repeated more politely, "What, Luca?"

"Are we still going to the gala?"

* * *

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

 **AN:** Hey, look who finally got this chapter written out and updated. :D Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Impressively Terrible**

* * *

Orion resolved himself not to fidget as the bouncer read a clipboard. He could feel his sister's gaze on him, if Orion was wrong and Walburga had not listed them as her guests, Lucretia would have a rough evening ahead soothing her husband's ruffled feathers.

Ignatius was a rather seclusive man and it was difficult motivating him to go out; he'd have much rather enjoyed a quiet Hallow's Eve at home with only Luca's company. But Orion's sister had convinced him to accompany them for Orion's sake.

Personally, he'd been set to arrive alone but Lucretia had insisted on being there "just in case."

In case of what, he wasn't sure.

Ignatius released a harsh breath through his nose; he'd be cross if he'd gone to all the effort to dress for a ball just to be turned away.

If it did come to that, he'd have the two leave and Orion would just...find another route inside.

To his relief the wizard nodded to his fellow guard. "Black invited them."

The velvet ropes barring their way unhooked themselves and allowed them entrance.

Maybe it was because he'd spent a lifetime searching her out in various settings that he spotted her immediately in a burgundy floor-length gown.

Tasteful.

Lace sleeves covered her arms and spanned across her chest all the way up to her jaw to obscure even a hint of cleavage.

Disappointingly tasteful.

This gown was for the public, the other...the _other_ dress had been for him and him alone. That encouraged a spiral of pleasure in him.

As he approached, he noticed the dangling garnet earrings he'd bought her for her sixteenth birthday.

When they were children, she had confided to him that her agemates had teased her for having an embarrassingly small collection of jewelry.

Lucretia had gotten such trinkets for every birthday of her life.

For some reason her family had never doted on her that way...which angered him.

She assured him that there were some heirloom pieces intended for her...but she never showed them off and he knew instinctively that they must be terrible.

Impressively terrible because Walburga loved jewelry and she could forgive a lot if the cut and setting of a stone was good.

All through school, she tended to spend her allowances on dueling materials and dresses and jewelry.

He'd sometimes lend her the amount she needed for Hogsmeade trips to get the matching sets she wanted...until he could accompany her there himself and simply buy it outright.

He'd always been good at budgeting, and gambling on school Quidditch matches to expand his funds, and then after school, when he established himself in the work world, he made a point of lavishing such gifts on her; sometimes for no reason other than he caught her entranced by one polished gem or another.

"Orion!" She hurried over and threw her arms around him. "Happy All Hallow's Eve!"

"And to you as well." It was easy to hold her. It was difficult to let go.

She smelled like vanilla perfume and chardonnay and he feared she might have already indulged in too much for one evening and he dreaded the company she might be keeping.

O the irony.

As if guessing his thoughts, she pulled back and explained that Knowles had opened a bottle rather carelessly and a fountain of alcohol had showered all who stood near him.

"You weren't struck with the cork, were you?" he asked in concern. He'd seen first-hand the damage those could do.

And often she was too proud to admit when she'd been harmed. And the damned modest dress was covering enough that he couldn't tell if she'd been bruised.

"No. Just dampened by refreshment. Thankfully, my dress doesn't show it."

She said it so lightly that he had to frown.

There was a time when such an incident would've sparked a very low toned, angry tirade; for she always took great pains to show herself off to the best advantage.

But…

She touched his forearm to try and distract him. "The decorations are quite fetching don't you think?"

He couldn't care less about the swooping banners and silver flowers and jack-o-lanterns and fountains and candles and whatever else the Tournament's committee had bothered to set up but he muttered something vaguely positive for her sake.

She was still trying to be pleasant for him. He'd noticed that a was a new tactic for her during the past two days as she came in and typed papers for him.

No arguments. No clashes of opinion. Even when he tried to goad her.

She was miserably agreeable.

"Yes, I...I like them too," she repeated a bit woodenly.

She shook her head as if she was psyching herself up and then talked goodnaturedly about the musicians playing that evening, and her smile didn't waver, but there was a weariness in her eyes like she was walking on eggshells around him.

While it was true she did have a tendency to veer into negativity, particularly when she was vexed (and she was so very easy to vex as she suffered from a multitude of various idiosyncrasies and set beliefs), being small and dainty, her explosive temper amused him to no end.

It didn't hurt that many of her past observations and the conclusions she drew from them were simply hilarious.

Like that Mrs. Humviry was a secret admirer of muggle music and she walked uncommonly slow when traveling through train stations and other public spaces whenever there were songs audible (even if they be mere renditions by second-rate panhandlers).

Walburga also had conspiracy theories about Dumbledore being unswervingly partial to Gryffindor House and minimizing their detentions (especially on behalf of Mudbloods) to a point where the punishment didn't equal the crime were particularly great to hear because she got increasingly indignant as she listed anecdotes she'd heard or experienced.

Then there was her insistence on how Mr. Ollivander's organization habits were criminal and she highly suspected that his one-time summer assistant was still in the shop somewhere...buried underneath boxes of wands…because no one elopes to Edinburgh in winter. There could even be more victims there! Customers he couldn't match to wands!

He felt his lips twitch into a smile because remembering that always lightened his mood. And then there was the way she always gave the shop a look of mistrust whenever she passed it.

And now, here she was...chattering innocuously about trivial things that couldn't offend.

She always fell back on weather when she couldn't gauge what direction to lead a conversation.

It made them feel distant.

And in spite of all her obvious good intentions, he felt annoyed as she began talking about wind speeds.

He nodded—absentmindedly reaching over and tucking a curl of hers that had come loose back under its pin and charming it to stay.

"Thank you, that one's been unruly. I kept meaning to manage it but...well than something else of more import or interest would occur."

"I see."

She explained how earlier the duelists had been asked onto the stage and introduced and applauded and that curl kept coming loose and she couldn't afford to fix it then with everyone watching.

"I'm sure you were brilliant anyways. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner to see it."

"...I...I did receive a good amount of applause...more than I expected at any rate."

He nodded.

Walburga confessed, "I-I wasn't sure if you would come...I...I looked out but…"

He repeated his apology and she waved her hand in dismissal and her fingers accidentally brushed against his breast pocket.

She seemed to only realize then that she was still standing intimately close to him. Why the sides of her shoes were against his...not that he minded. She hastily took a step back for propriety's sake.

"F-forgive me, I...it's just...I am so glad you came."

Warmth filled him at her earnesty.

Her face flushed as she seemed to register how sentimental she sounded and she shrugged as she said as much.

He reached for her and slid his hands from her elbows to her wrists before taking her hands in his.

They swung their hands playfully—much as they'd used to when they were young and there was something of dire import to say or express.

In times passed, he often felt he would simply burst if he couldn't tell her one thing or another.

And he'd known she felt the same for her bright silver eyes would never leave his face.

She had a hunter's gaze.

Focused. Intense.

And her eyes were fixed on him for a full five beats before she laughed a little ruefully. "You see how ridiculous I get when you leave me-"

He released her hands and something like pain flit across her face.

He pulled her to him and after a moment's surprise, she sank into his embrace.

She angled her head to look up at him. Relief was in her voice. "I knew you couldn't stay angry with me."

"No," he agreed.

No matter how much his parents wished for it.

She cheered up considerably and smiled rather smugly.

She was lucky that smugness looked pretty on her.

"Life is boring without me, isn't it?" she purred.

"If by boring you mean sensible and ordered, then-"

She gave him such a fierce frown—

He laughed and earned a hard poke from a long-nailed finger.

* * *

It was a nice change to have her be the one leaning into him at every occasion.

He let her lead him around, introducing him to her rivals and admirers. Lucretia and Ignatius stayed behind to sample the delicacies of the banquet while Orion and Walburga made the rounds and said their 'hello's' to the social circles they must.

Their stroll about ended on a divan by a chilly window that kept letting in a draft.

The only reason he didn't insist they leave was that the chill kept driving her more fully into his side.

She handed him her empty champagne glass and he set it on a nearby table by his own.

It had taken a good two hours but she was finally beginning to act somewhat more like herself.

"You're horrible," she declared out right.

He snickered. "Oh?"

"Yes. For a man of tradition, you've violated the rules of engagement."

His lips pursed together and he raised an eyebrow. He was a gentleman and such accusations were insulting.

"You've not complimented me once this evening." She pinched the fabric of her dress pointedly.

His mood brightened and he couldn't hide his grin. "Beautiful woman and duelist extraordinaire forgive your humble serv-"

She tried to frown but the corners of her lips kept twitching. "You don't like my dress, Orion."

"Hmm?"

"O-ri-on…" She stretched the syllables of his name playfully. "You can hardly bear to look at it. I've noticed."

He gave a mock sigh and then took a deep breath as though steeling himself. "You are a beautiful woman...in a horrible dress."

She laughed.

Emboldened, he continued. "Where did you find the monstrosity? How did it capture you? Were you frightened? Was it terrible?"

She pushed a hand against his bicep. "It is not so bad as that. It...well...alright, it's not...my best but...I did...have reasons to...Here. Come on. Help me." She turned and indicated to the top buttons fastening it at her neck.

He froze—more than a bit blindsided by that.

He hadn't thought the mood had progressed to such a point. And she was so candid.

She moved her shoulders impatiently. "Orion?"

His stomach flopped.

What the devil had she been up to in the time they were estranged?

He felt a rush of protectiveness vye with disapproval even as it savored of complete hypocrisy.

What forays she entered and who she entered them with weren't...his...business…

Damnation, he was jealous...and worried...and jealous…

He swallowed nervously.

"Orion?" she said flatly.

He very carefully undid the two buttons and hesitated.

She then promptly pulled out her wand and performed a severing charm to cut the lacy upper portion of her attire.

She cut it along the bodice—trimming as needed to outline the sweetheart shape.

Now sleeveless, she looked to him expectantly. "Well?"

It was a good deal more flattering but…

"The back is rather...scandalous."

"Your standards or mine?" she demanded.

"Yours." And perhaps his...if only because it was her…

She cast about to find her reflection and settled on the window and snickered appreciatively. "Yes...it is a bit...much, isn't it?"

She loosened her hair from its bun for "camouflage" or so she said.

She only pinned a few curls back up and then looked to him again.

"Beautiful," he praised, but he still felt unsettled by the moment. She wouldn't have dared to do anything like that weeks ago.

Something had happened since their argument.

Some kind of change was coming over her...and he wasn't sure he approved.

"It's a pity I don't have a necklace." She touched the spot where one would've gone and sighed.

"I think your collar bones are decoration enough."

She smirked and raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. They were lovely. He traced a thumb against one.

She stared and a blush suffused her skin, but she didn't move away.

And he couldn't gauge whether she liked the attention or was too determined to mend their bonds to be uncomfortable when he overstepped.

The latter possibility sobered him immediately and he retracted his hand.

"I'm too bold," he admitted.

She took the reckless hand in hers. "You're a charming flirt, that's all."

He did _**not**_ like being summed up that way.

She laughed.

And he gave her a darker look.

"It could be worse," she volunteered as she twined their fingers. "You could be 'Battleaxe Black-the-frigid-fortress-of-doom.' Want to trade? I hear it's nice being charming."

And there was that damnable wistfulness again.

"Have you danced this evening?" he demanded.

"Just the waltz."

Bloody Malfoy.

She always danced that with him.

"Come on," he led her from the room.

* * *

Orion knew from the age of fourteen that the varsouvienne was undoubtedly their dance.

Always.

The fast pace, the complexity, the coordination—it well-suited them.

And they suited each other.

She smiled brightly at him as they spun.

"Frigid" his foot. She hadn't pressed so close to him in a dance since they were very small and still battling over who got to lead until their great grandfather crossed the ballroom to confront them and sort the matter out.

Though...she definitely wasn't fighting him right now.

No.

They were quite insync with their footing but...getting progressively more scandalous as the measures played out.

Alcohol had an awful effect on her sense of boundaries.

From the time he'd met up with her, she'd had four flutes of champagne and he dreaded to know how many she'd downed before his arrival.

He now actively kept an eye out for servers and waved them away as they approached.

Damnation, it scorched his insides...to quite suddenly know what it must've been like for Walburga trying to manage him when he was unruly at a ball.

But it seemed like there were so many more dangers for her and it was alarming to think that she might've been this intimate with Malfoy during their waltz.

The song ended and he walked her to the side grateful that, while she was still giggling a bit insipidly, she hadn't once tripped on her hem.

He needed to take her home before she made an impression on the gossips at the event.

Thus far, they'd seemed more interested in Mr. Neros Flint and Miss Peony Parkinson's attempt to snog (or quite possibly more) behind a curtain that didn't adequately cover them. But someone was bound to notice Walburga wasn't quite herself.

Still, it was nice to be able to wrap an arm around her waist without having her shuffle a noticeable inch apart for the sake of etiquette.

Instead, she leaned into the hold and started talking about work and how her skills with a typewriter were being incorporated into her job at the ministry; she was getting quite fast and that Orion's business could definitely benefit from that as well.

He encouraged that train of thought with nods and questions while he subtly led her toward an exit.

His plan, if she noticed and called him on it, was to take her for a dessert at a fine restaurant or, better, at home with a strong cup of tea.

They were nearly to the entrance when she was unceremoniously wrenched from him.

"Where the Hell do you think you're going with _him_?" An angry male voice demanded. "And what are you wearing now?"

* * *

Walburga blinked at the sudden reappearance of her date—taken aback by his vehemence, especially considering he'd left her over two hours ago to find someone "less frigid" in his words.

"Not so saintly after all? He has his hands all over you in-in THIS little piece and _I'm_ the lech. I'm the unspeakable 'lord of depravity' as you said?" Neros Flint growled.

She jerked her arm out of his grasp and set her hands on her hips, unwilling to be cowed. "Well, when you wandered off with Peony, I somehow had the epiphany that our date had ended and _whatever_ things I do or _whomever_ I do those things with is none of your business. And 'no,' we shan't be doing this again. So you can just turn your two-faced, self-righteous ar-"

"How dare-"

She scoffed at his bluster and the heat of alcohol coursing through her veins made her especially defiant. "I dare. O I dare. Touch me? You? Of course not. I know filth and I won't suffer it."

Orion was trying to move past her and enter the kerfuffle. She placed a hand on his arm to still him.

It just wasn't a good time for chivalry no matter how well-intended; she couldn't afford to see him injured, especially on her behalf. He'd be appalled to learn how terribly her night had gone before he'd turned up and would no doubt insist on taking the other man to task.

That had to be avoided.

"Orion," she began as she turned to face him with a look of apology, because the last thing they needed was another scene of ballroom drama mere months after his horrid night at the MacNair's ball.

But before she could wryly comment on the situation they were in—

SLAP!

Walburga was embarrassed. Not to be slapped of course. The sting blooming across her face wasn't something altogether new.

But to ignore her own rules of battle by not keeping an eye on her opponent and leaving herself wide open to an attack...

Flint's hit had been shockingly strong and she was almost impressed. She had not properly gauged the strength in his build.

"Should've known that supposed 'kiss' in _Flourish & Blotts_ was no rumor," the man seethed. "Kissing cousins indeed. I thought you two were odd in school-"

She landed rather inelegantly on the hard marble floor but it didn't hurt. Not really.

"So does she always coming running whenever you call? You just snap your fingers and she comes panti-"

Neither the hit, the landing, nor his words distracted her from what must be done.

She drew her wand from her sash, pointed it and…her aim drooped as she watched Orion dispatch Flint with a merciless Knee-Reversal hex that made Flint shriek, followed by a Silencing Charm, and a sharp kick to the stomach.

"Listen well." Orion was white-faced and beyond furious as he picked the other wiizard up by the collar of his robes to shake him like a ragdoll.

It was a strange thing to contemplate that...maybe...in all those duels he'd participated in following nights of mischief…

The reason that he'd never bothered to ask for her help was because he...hadn't...needed it…

And that released a strange sense of despair because somehow...deep down...she'd always fancied herself his protector...

"If you _**ever**_ accost her again," Orion vowed quietly. "Let alone dare to touch her... That will be it. It will be over. And they will wonder what happened to you, for no one...NO ONE shall ever-"

"You should go," Knott advised from nearby. "I'll answer any questions they have regarding...this."

Orion didn't reply. His breath just hissed out from between his teeth and he dropped the man, who curled in on himself. Which looked painful...considering the knees...

Orion turned, picked Walburga up in a damsel-carry, and they left...without even bothering to collect their cloaks and she was too stunned to remind him.

She'd never seen him react so...violently.

Sure, Abraxas had long insisted that her cousin had a vicious temper but…

She scarcely believed it.

It was an awkwardly quiet walk to the carriage. Just the sound of his breathing and his dress shoes on the pavement. She didn't realize she would miss the silence until it ended.

On the ride home, following a tense interrogation about whether or not she was alright or in need of a trip to Mungo's, he nothing short of berated her for having the idiocy to choose Neros Flint as her companion. Neros Flint! He must've said the man's name eighteen times. Of all the people to accompany her to such a place! Was she daft?!

Didn't she know what a dangerous wizard he was?

"I do now," she muttered.

"He's violent and unpredictable and-and-and how could you choose him?!"

"He...he asked!" she squawked, offended at the insinuation that this could somehow be her fault.

She hadn't known him all that well at school with him being a few years younger than herself.

And he was a Pureblood and a Slytherin and came from a wealthy, prominent family. It had seemed like good fortune when he'd strolled over the previous morning following one of her meetings at the _Knight's Stronghold_ and inquired about her plans for the tournament's gala tonight. He'd read about her latest match in the newspaper. He'd missed the deadline to compete himself because of a work assignment in Belgium.

It wasn't until they'd met back up this evening and his interest in her flagged and their personalities clashed that she'd known she'd made a colossal mistake.

"How could you agree!? How could you-you-how could you _**choose**_ him?"

She blinked, caught off guard by how badly he was taking it all.

"Choose him?" she repeated.

It was just posturing.

She'd done it enough with Malfoy.

It wasn't a date. Not in a true sense.

It was an agreement. An alliance. To show up and stand for pictures and dance and support one another in various conversations.

"Don't you know him at all? Haven't you heard anything? Do you pay attention at all-"

"No," she snapped. "I met him yesterday and-"

"You. Met. Him. _Yesterday_?" Orion hissed.

"..."

"And you entrusted yourself to his care?! At a prestigious event? At night? Unchaperoned?!"

"...I am not a trunk or a gate to be guarded, Orion. I don't 'entrust' myself to anyone's keeping but my own."

"Did he even ask your father's permission? Your brothers? Do they even know you're out this night?"

"...I...thank you for your concern," she gritted out. God, that was painful to say. "Traditional as it may be...and I acknowledge...mistakes were made."

He gave an incredulous snort. "Of all the reckless, stupid-"

"I am perfectly capable of deciding for myself whose company-"

Orion wouldn't have it. "He could've _**hurt**_ you."

"..." No. No, she wouldn't allow him to shame her. She'd done nothing wrong. She'd been unwise in selecting him without knowing him better but no more than that.

She breathed in and out through her nose and focused on the shadowy scenery whizzing by the window.

"Answer m-"

"I hear you," she growled and crossed her arms.

"Walburga...Walburga, how could you...such a cad-"

Irate, she whipped back to face him. "It's not my fault he was a cad. He was perfectly respectable until he wasn't. And when he wasn't, I turned him away. What happened after isn't my fault so you can-can-can s-s-stop-" she swallowed hard and determinedly looked back to the window.

"I...of course it's not your fault. I know that. It's his. I just can't stand anyone hurting you...it makes me...look...I know this...was probably all very upsetting...I...don't mean to worsen matters or make you feel responsible. No, I-"

"Then what are you going on about?" Walburga burst out as she swiveled to look at him once more.

"What he did was unacceptable-"

"I don't care about what he did!" she replied shrilly. "I'd have just dueled him myself."

He stared. "You're not...upset because he-he-he _hit_ you?"

"I'm in a dueling tournament, Orion. I'm no stranger to being punched in the face by an insecure wizard! Have you watched any of my recent matches?"

"...they _**hit**_ you?" He was horrified.

"Keep up, Orion!"

His features contorted. "Then why are you so bloody upset now?!"

"BECAUSE YOU _**KEEP**_ YELLING AT ME!" she shrieked.

Thankfully, the carriage had reached Black manor and so she was able to immediately disembark and hurry up to the door.

Because everything was burning; her eyes, her chest, her throat.

Damn him.

A slew of painful memories flitted through her mind, leaving for Hogwarts for the first time and watching him and the platform shrink with distance, him leaving for Hogwarts after she'd graduated, various times he'd gotten sick or injured, the disastrous ball that had nearly taken him from her.

And all the careless things he did or said now and again.

Damn him.

Her father might have provoked such horrible feelings on occasion and Abraxas had done more than his fair share in frustrating and provoking her but Orion...Orion was in a category all his own. The only man who consistently wore her ragged.

The only man that always that made her cry so easily.

Yes, this was the "dearest friend" Fate would bestow upon her.

One who not only cheered her on at various turns but utterly destroyed her at others.

She could almost hear Abraxas laughing as she wept.

Because something about it all was poetic and it would figure that something flowery would be Walburga's downfall.

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the HP universe.

 **AN:** Thank you for your patience; I never abandon anything...I just...wander...stray until I can deliver the goods? I've really appreciated your reviews. Thank you Kotilda, Bren Gail, marinavelamberti, Good Idea, wandering on the road of life, drmeck, KChertkoff, ninjakilla, and all my lovely named and unnamed guests.

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Romantic But Stupid**

* * *

Walburga sighed and illuminated her wand with a soft "Lumos" to read the clock-face.

It had been over three hours since her disastrous evening ended and she still couldn't will herself to sleep the way she used to when she was young and Mother was awful and she knew she needed her wits about her if she was going to handle the next day with some manner of tact if not grace…and she could just shut her eyes.

Her door creaked open.

"Mistress?" Kreacher inquired.

"What?" she replied irritably, extinguishing the light.

"The other house elves are at a loss of what to do, Mistress."

She turned over to better hear. "What?"

"Young sir, Orion, won't leave the porch without seeing Mistress."

She gasped; he was _**still**_ out there?! That was dangerous! They didn't even leave the dogs outside overnight!

She threw the covers off and hastened out of her room, nearly tripping over her servant in the hall. She moved down the stairs—jumping the last five and ignoring the jolt that went up her legs.

That imbecile! It only proved he never listened to her warnings about the dangers of gargoyles.

Not to mention the autumn air was icy.

Even the stone floor here, guarded from the outside gusts, was chilled beneath her bare feet.

She could only imagine sitting on the porch for hours-he'd be half-frozen.

She wrenched the great door open and Orion fell back with a soft oath; apparently, he'd been sitting against it.

She swallowed an instinctive apology because the fool deserved it.

Yes…yes, he most definitely did.

Somehow, seeing him in all his evening finery in the moonlight made the night rush back to her and she rounded on him. "You! Do you have any idea how dangerous-"

He blinked lethargically at her for a moment. Had he been falling asleep?! Was he a victim of the falling temperatures? Idiot! There were perils to be wary of!

"What are you doing here?" she demanded as he stared up at her. She set her hands on her hips and loomed over him haughtily. "I say again, what are you doing here?"

He sat up.

"Your elves wouldn't let me in," he grumbled as he stretched a crick out of his neck.

"Well naturally...Father's not home," she answered. Earlier, the servants had probably seen her running with him behind her and had assumed he was an... unwanted suitor and barred him entrance.

He slowly found his feet and stood up. He brushed at his clothes. "And that makes it alright to just forsake me-"

She crossed her arms and realized in that instant that the other reason she was feeling so bitterly cold was that she hadn't bothered to change into a nightgown. When she'd come home, she'd raced upstairs, cast her dress and jewelry off in a frenzy of frustration, and thrown herself onto her bed.

Which meant now…

Good Lord...she was standing in front of an open door in a chemise.

Thankfully, Orion seemed too tired and annoyed to notice or comment.

That was good. Now, she just needed him to go.

"I didn't tell you to stay," she remarked flippantly—hoping that a terrible attitude would hasten his departure. "And you shouldn't have assumed they'd hold the doors for you."

His eyes flashed and she hoped they weren't adjusting to the dark space she was standing in.

"Was I supposed to break my neck climbing up to your bedroom at the dead of night, woman? Was-"

"No. You were supposed to do the decent thing and realize you were an utter idiot and leave me be," she snapped.

That made him flinch.

But it didn't give her much satisfaction.

He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed again. "...Fine...that's just...look...I sent the carriage on hours ago and I'm too tired to Apparate. May I at least trouble you for some Floo powder?"

That wasn't terribly unreasonable and she moved from foot to foot wishing to close the door already-the wind from outside was making her all gooseflesh.

But it meant letting him in and…

All those stupid romance novels she'd taken to reading flashed through her mind's eye. She abruptly thought of the kiss he'd given her at the Ministry. Her face heated accordingly.

"I...I…"

"For pity's sake, woman," he growled—volume increasing, "do the _decency_ " he threw the words back at her "of at least offering me some hospitality even if you won't grant me an opportunity to right our misunderstandings-"

"The floo' ."

"W-walburga?"

She moved back but not before the elves lit a few sconces to better light the hallway for their guest.

"Walburga, what the dev-" He glanced over her in bewilderment.

She felt her face warm even more and she hastily wrapped her arms around herself and stuttered out defensively, "I didn't know-had to hurry down—I s'pose they thought you'd just go but you didn't and they said you—gargoyles-didn't grab my dressing robe-"

"…" He nodded, then closed the door and locked it—his eyes never leaving her face.

She moved another self-conscious step back trying to conceal herself back in the shadows but he followed her there.

Would he do something rakish? Would that toe-curling sensation descend on her again?

Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt oddly rooted to the spot—as if an immobilius spell were on her.

In the gloom, he removed his cloak and coat and draped both about her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he murmured in a far softer tone than he'd been using a moment ago.

"It was...er…dangerous...for you out there…you know?" she faltered as he took her by the elbow to guide her. Where was he leading her?!

A plague on silly romance novels, her imagination was following through various heroine's fictional encounters!

"H-hey...I am speaking..." she protested halfheartedly.

They wound up in the manor's Great Hall and he got a fire going in the hearth with a crack of his wand.

She was not disappointed.

No.

It was a logical place to take her. For him to take himself. Because…they were both cold and he was going to Floo away.

A few dogs growled as they moved past.

"Shut it!" she hissed and the hounds whined and bowed their heads.

One had to be firm with beasts or they took all sorts of liberties.

She expected Orion to maybe embrace her, or squeeze her hand goodbye, or give her a short but pretty farewell.

But instead of making use of the Floo and being on his way, Orion steered them over to a sofa where they both sat down heavily without the airs of usual propriety.

Still…

He didn't press into her or pull her to him.

He merely slumped against the pillows. She tucked her legs under her and used his cloak to cover…everything.

He looked worryingly overtired and she hoped he wasn't taking ill. But at least, if the firelight could be trusted, he no longer looked vexed. In fact, he wore an almost infuriatingly tragic expression on him.

"What?" she demanded.

"You've been crying," he stated miserably.

She went very still.

Damnation. Damnation! Good Lord! She hadn't bothered with removing her makeup and the streaming mess was probably all over her-

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

No wonder he hadn't commented on her lack of dress.

Fool that she was…

Thinking herself tempting…

"Don't-just don't look-" She angled herself away and had half a mind to put the fire out. "I'm not one of those woeful ingenues who look glamourous when I-"

But he gently tilted her face back towards him and very carefully maneuvered his handkerchief under her eyes as he repeated himself, "I am so very sorry. You must believe me. I would never injure you deliberately. Never."

His grave air was ridiculous. One would...one would think he'd done far more than simply tread on her feelings and insult her intelligence and taste.

 _Injury._

That was…that was a melodramatic way to phrase it.

For goodness' sake, he'd never raised a hand against her in his life!

Still, her heart did contract painfully when she thought of his tirade earlier.

No.

No. They were both overreacting. She wouldn't be overrun by emotion a second time in several hours.

"Look, you had plenty of things to tell me a few hours ago and more I expect now after being stranded here. Don't let this stop you."

He cupped her face.

"…Walburga…"

He looked wounded.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

"…I never see you cry. Only once in my life before now…your mother's funeral-"

"Whatever you need to say to feel vindicated, do so and then-"

"That's a choice on your part, isn't it? It isn't that you don't-"

"Say what you must and-"

"You just don't let me see-"

"Orion…" she swallowed, "my eyes might betray me, but my ears won't. I'm not so weak I can't take your anger. Go on and say what you-"

"…I have nothing more to say on the matter," he stated quietly while he stroked her cheek. "I made my…feelings known and I…I profess…regret that I couldn't…articulate them in a-a-a way that didn't feel…confrontive. This…that…wasn't what I wanted…at all."

"Y-you don't need to mince words with me."

That agitated him. "I'm not a brute. You can tell me when my words are too sharp. I will endeavor to-"

She pulled his hands from her face and held them tight in her lap. "And I'm not a child. You don't have to be gentle-"

"I _**want**_ to be gentle," he insisted as he interlocked their fingers. "God, Walburga, I just feel awful."

He freed his hands and used them to pull her close and she froze, a bit unsure of what was happening. "W-what are you…?"

He rubbed and patted her shoulders. It wasn't…unpleasant but it was…odd.

The moment didn't seem romantic or companionable or anything like the myriad of other experiences between them. The nearest thing she could remember was dealing with him after various misadventures…spending time with him or letting him tag along for chores or doting on him with a dessert. The physicality of the present moment was very different. And slightly disconcerting. If she didn't trust him so inherently, she'd have pulled away immediately.

He seemed to grow impatient at her lack of reaction. "Walburga?"

"I don't know what you expect me to do," she answered candidly.

"…what?"

She repeated herself and he drew back and stared at her for a moment.

"You're…" she fidgeted slightly. "You're trying to-to console me, aren't you?"

He paused and then nodded. "I'm attempting to do so."

Good. She felt rather pleased with herself. She'd read about this before and said so. That didn't seem to relieve him though.

"In an opera, this would be the part where I'm supposed to throw myself into your arms and cry. But I've already cried tonight and I don't feel like doing so again," she stated.

Still, all those theatrical scenes she'd scoffed and scorned in times past didn't seem as ridiculous as they once had. The embrace was rather warm and gentle. It didn't make her pulse race or anything and she couldn't call it passionate but…

He stroked her hair tentatively. "Walburga…when something…distresses you…whom do you confide in?"

"You," she answered readily and pulled back to make eye contact. "I complain to you all the ti-" She winced at how that sounded. "I…well…I do…though I'm trying to do better and not bother-"

"No! No, no, you are never a bother. You may always seek me out, or stay with me when you're distressed, or send for me…I will come to you."

She frowned at his rushed words. "That's…charitable but impractical and I…I cannot hold you to that-"

And yet…again, she felt her heart contract and her spirits flag—it would be too much to demand such. She knew that and yet a strange longing to pin him by such a promise needled at her heart of hearts.

"You shall or I'll go mad," he muttered.

She laughed—abruptly brought out of the dark feelings besieging her by the flatness of his delivery. She then surprised herself by boldly moving back into his embrace. Perhaps there was something to being held after all? His arms tightened. He was so pleasantly warm…

And her home was always cold…

"Orion?"

"Hm?"

"I am comforted. Your attempt succeeded."

He snorted lightly near her ear.

* * *

Orion stretched carefully as he awoke too early by wane morning light. The sofa had been a narrow space to fall asleep on, but he couldn't complain when it meant Walburga had been very intimately nestled against him.

Maybe his arm was a touch numb from her resting on it but…

She'd stayed!

That was…wonderfully shocking.

He remembered thinking that when she first nodded off against him instead of retiring to her room. When he began to drift himself, he braced himself with the likelihood that he might awake to find her gone-that matters of propriety would prompt her to leave him during some time of the night.

She'd stayed.

New levels of intimacy and trust were being reached!

He was still reeling, however, from her woeful lack of experience with consolation.

Yet…it explained so much.

He'd known for a long while that her father wasn't particularly…kind…and that he was ill-suited for providing affection and concern.

But now…

It seemed apparent that her mother hadn't been a source of that either. Which seemed criminal. Luca was very close to their mother—the bond offered much warmth.

Was that why Walburga had cried all those years ago? For a bond that had never been?

What sort of household let a daughter grow up without being held during moments of anguish? She'd been genuinely caught off guard by his support.

Were they a family that never embraced?

He thought hard on it and…couldn't think of a single birthday, holiday, or funeral where he'd seen Walburga hugged or led by the hand by any of her immediate family.

She and her siblings weren't particularly affectionate to one another…though he knew she went to great pains to select them gifts for different occasions. He'd assumed they were fiercely private and tenderness was reserved for less public displays.

He realized now…they didn't happen.

They just…didn't...happen.

He thought hard.

Even acquaintances and other relatives only gave fleeting faire le bises, handshakes, and hugs—often preferring to stand apart.

Her childhood…and even her adulthood…was looking bleaker all the while.

It damn near stunned him and gave him awful new insight into what being her "dearest friend" might mean.

As children they'd always been very affectionate and open to one another…so it wasn't that she was against forming such bonds.

They'd run about everywhere holding hands, had played all manner of games from tag to chess, and gone on a plethora of imaginary ventures as they tested out their budding magic.

She'd even confided to him that she liked him playing with her tresses; a hobby of his that had started long before and that he couldn't be broken of even when his parents warned him that she might not like it. Though not having her permission bothered him until he pointblank asked her.

An eleven-year-old Walburga had been lying on his lap and he was brushing her hair with a very fancy silver comb he'd nicked from his mother's vanity which looked, in his opinion, much prettier against his cousin's darker hair.

As his fingers moved, his parents' warnings echoed in his ears and, fed up with them ruining one of his favorite past times, he demanded answer from his fair playmate.

She sighed contentedly as he pulled the comb's teeth through—gentle with the tangles _-"Yes, I like this game…Like I'm a queen and you care about all of me. Even my hair."_

Then mid-adolescence began and the family began harping on her to be more "ladylike" and her hair got pinned beyond his grasp.

And that bothered him because it was such an easy way to show he cared.

As an adult she became increasingly more reserved and less physically demonstrative though she regularly doted on him with gifts and thoughtful services—he abruptly thought of her typing for him.

She was always very careful though…with everything; with what she confided to him, with what tasks she required his aid for, she never leaned too heavily.

Anything she did ask was always to be done "at his leisure." Anything that needed swift action, she tackled herself…regardless if she was the best person for it or not. Or if it would lead her into dangerous waters.

She…wasn't used to depending on…

He looked around the lonely estate.

Anyone.

Had resigned herself to it.

If last night's little speech was anything to go by, she tried very hard not to feel much at all and whatever overflowed either came out in venting or was dealt with by cloistering herself away.

It was a lonely, cold, piecemeal way of living that Pollux had likely modeled.

It didn't suit her. She was far too passionate. She needed more.

She shifted—taking advantage of the heat of his body and sighing contentedly as she moved her arm over his chest.

He set the strap of her slip more fully on her shoulder before pulling a blanket more securely over her.

House-elves must've supplied them with bedding at some point.

Her warm weight and her even breathing were lulling him back to sleep.

They could talk and philosophize more later.

" _You see how ridiculous I get when you leave me?"_

That plagued him.

" _It may take a few years but…he is my dearest friend…I can wait."_

Damn, it bothered him fiercely.

 _"I am so glad you came."_

She wanted him in her life; that much was certain. And she was going to great pains now to show him he was appreciated. But it was strange to think she'd been deluding herself for ages…adamant that she could be satisfied by simply having him near in any capacity of shallow friendship…when there was an undercurrent of her wanting more.

He wasn't an innocent in the realm of attraction and while her mouth spoke of platonic platitudes of companionship, the rest of her bespoke different desires.

He gently ran a hand down her back and felt her press into him as she "hmmed" in satisfaction.

Her body knew he was more lover than friend.

O she'd harness and muzzle herself to try and deny it, but then…if she was dreadfully repressed and naïve…and truly believed she'd "ruin" things between them by allowing their relationship to evolve…deepen…mature…

Her rejection of him (gutting as it still was when he thought about it) made more sense. When he refused to reinstate their status quo and shut her out while he recovered, she'd…

He looked down at her slumbering form.

She'd suffered.

And that hurt him.

But it also…changed things.

She was trying new ways to express her affections for him…

"… _If you don't like it, I'll stop…"_

And she was responding to him differently.

But he needed to be patient. Make sure she wasn't moving into territory she wasn't prepared for in a misguided attempt to soothe him.

He didn't want to take advantage of her.

He wanted…

Several hounds were whimpering but he couldn't be bothered to care why.

Her with him. Yes. He wanted her with him. On every level.

He sighed and ran a hand over her long hair.

Hadn't he fantasized waking up to this vision of loveliness since third-year?

Everything could be sorted later.

He needed to enjoy the moment.

He chastely kissed the top of her head and she cuddled into him. He'd longed for this. He slipped his arms around her waist.

Her lips brushed against his collarbone.

Oh yes. This could be a wonderful new normal.

 _You would be my queen and never need feel anything but cherished for the rest of our lives_ , he thought determinedly.

Why had he woken up at all? When everything was so near perfect?

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Right.

More dogs whined as it became known that there was someone at the front door.

Right.

One dog howled and others joined in.

Walburga groaned. "Someone's at the door."

She moved and her curves pushed more deliciously against him—her form settling in places nature intended. He grunted as she propped herself up and forward on her elbows. They were nearly nose to nose.

He swallowed. "Yes, but I don't think we need bother-"

She blew a lock of hair out of her face and yawned. "Father's on assignment. I have to answer. It could be about him-"

Orion frowned at the suggestion; she was NOT dressed for that. "I'll go in your stead."

She blinked and looked down at him and her hair pooled around him.

Good God, she was beautiful.

"Thank you, dear," she mumbled as he shifted himself out from under her as much to answer the door as to remove himself from temptation. He damn near flew down the hall and away. What good were all his high-minded reflections about not rushing things if his body was keen on betraying him?

The cold air rushing by as he opened the front door was welcome.

"Hello, Ms-uh-" a chorus began and then stopped.

Orion glowered at the two Ministry men standing opposite of him.

They openly stared.

Annoyed, he asked them to identify themselves.

"We…we're from the Beast division of the ministry."

"Is there news about Pollux Black?" he demanded.

"Who…who are y-"

"Do you have something to drop off?" he tried again.

They didn't wish to tell him anything of note, yet they wouldn't just leave either.

It became an irritating conversation of answering questions with questions punctuated by long pauses as they stared each other down and answered in the vaguest of ways.

Unfortunately, the silence and tarrying begat new complications.

"Orion?" Walburga called as she approached. "Orion, who was it? Did they leave-"

He couldn't wave her away in time and misunderstandings abounded as immediate connections were made.

Her hair was loose and mussed. She wore only a thin slip and Orion's coat.

On realizing the visitors were still present, she hurriedly pulled the male garment closed.

But the damage was done.

The two men hastily tried to explain their presence. "We…we'd heard about the night…before and wanted to make sure you'd be…well enough for your work shift…today."

"Oh…w-well, yes. I will be. Thank you?"

They gave her stiff nods, him venomous glares, and then disapparated.

"That was all very odd," Walburga noted.

"You should've waited, love." He closed the door and bolted it. He ran a hand through his hair and then scratched at the stubble coming in along his jaw. "You wearing what you're wearing. Me wearing…last night's clothes…" He swore. "They're going to think…well…they're going to assume…" He couldn't look her in the eye. "…that we were… _together_."

"We were."

Lightning may as well have coursed through his blood as he felt heat rise in him. "N-no, we-" he swallowed "-were _near_ one another…company and no more…"

"…Oh…" she fiddled with the cuffs of his coat and worried her lips between her teeth.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

"So…my reputation is…" Her large silver eyes sought his.

Ruined.

Her reputation as a lady was ruined.

They both knew it.

And it wasn't in the slightly scandalizing but ultimately harmless category of stealing kisses in a bookshop.

No.

This was…

People would say…horrible things…

Damnation. Why did he answer the door? He did this.

That cooled his ardor and filled him with guilt.

Life was about to be terrible for her.

Straight-laced thing she was.

She wasn't one of those coquettish witches he'd spend whirlwind weekends with. The kind who would laugh off jibes at her appetite for carnal attentions and batt her eyelashes seductively at naysayers.

His poor darling would be scandalized.

"I can…see what I can do…tell them I was making sure Flint didn't bother you…but it doesn't help that we had no chaperone. Blast…your father isn't home…I should've had Lucretia come over. Blast, should've left them knocking. Walburga, I'm sorry. I'll do what I can to salvage-"

She set a hand on his arm.

"I should've had a house-elf answer! I-"

"You didn't do anything ungentlemanly, Orrie."

He flinched at the hated nickname.

Ruined.

And they hadn't even done anything of merit to earn it.

She leaned against him. "How much can two men gossip?"

* * *

The answer was a lot. Quite a lot.

Three days after, when he was out for an evening drink at the _Knights' Stronghold_ , Derek asked him rather flatly with more than a hint of disapproval if it was "worth it."

Orion's head jerked up and he glared.

Derek's lips thinned. "Not everything you hoped for then?" He took over for the bartender and poured Orion's drink himself—setting the bottle down hard.

Orion gave a potent frown. "I warn you, man, don't play games. What are you on about?"

The man's nostrils flared. "Walburga. I have long defended you because you are my friend. But this…I draw a line here. She was a true lady and an innocent. And I know you longed for her but…but…O, Orion don't tell me you used her cruelly. As a-a trophy, a notch, a means to prove to yourself-"

The glass Orion was holding shattered.

His friend's expression cleared. "O thank God. I can tell just from your face..." He calmly cleaned the shards up with a wave of his wand—depositing them into a waste bin. He leaned forward with interest. "Were you afraid Flint would return?"

He nodded. "And we had an argument…I hurt her feelings. I…I had to…fix it." He slumped against the counter. "I shouldn't have answered the door for her that morning-"

Derek made a noise of interest.

Orion frowned and shook his head. "I…I was angry that anyone should knock so early. I should've had an elf turn them away. But she thought it might be about her father…" He rested his head in his hands.

"Well, my wife will be relieved. Walburga's always been a great customer. Our girls are fond of her—she is an incredible duelist. And she's been awfully patient, signing all of their things. Honestly, we didn't know what to think when we first started hearing about it. I mean, Rion…we…we shared a dorm, whether I wanted to or not _I_ knew you'd always fancied her. You talked about her constantly and you dreamed-" The man made a face and shuddered.

Orion raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Derek wiped the counter down with a towel. "But…I also heard she was pretty er… _friendly_ with you at that ball. Which is great news for you, mate. Always rooting for you. But I feared you might've been made too _enthusiastic_ by your turn of fortune." He lowered his voice. "I don't mean to sound offensive. But I always sort of figured if you…if you managed it, your wedding announcement would be in the morning paper."

Orion's face heated up.

"And when it didn't…"

"You assumed the worst of me."

The wizard shrugged apologetically.

"Do you have an owl I can borrow? I need her to know the rumor has spread."

"Of course."

He kept his note brief and sent the owl on its way; her response came far quicker than he anticipated and in rushed handwriting.

She was about to duel and then had an interview scheduled after with a panel (supposing she triumphed which, the letter assured, she would). He was welcome to see her. _Always_.

His face warmed. _Always._ It said that. He pointed it out to Derek, who patted him on the shoulder and wished him well.

He stopped to buy flowers and arrived too late for the duel and he couldn't decide if that was a relief or not.

The bouncer he'd met months earlier barred his way.

"There-there were interviews?" Orion tried to explain.

The man crossed his arms. "Only family is…wait…I've seen you before…you're Black's beau?"

He shamelessly agreed—he might as well use the rumor while it was in effect.

The wizard opened the gate to let him pass and was told to continue through various tent tunnels and take two rights.

It opened up into a larger ceiling-ed tent where various private niches were set up here and there to accommodate duelists. No doubt the dwindling number of contestants meant more luxury could be provided.

Walburga entered with Malfoy trailing after her; her dress was ripped in rather provocative places.

And for a moment, Orion was truly stunned.

" _I'm no stranger to being punched in the face by an insecure wizard!"_

They'd ripped her dress…

They dared rip her dress!

Fury boiled in his blood at the affront. Had that already been happening? Or had that started since the rumor?

He made his way to her, fumbling with the clasp on his cloak—eager to drape it over her and offer some respite.

She performed a tailoring spell that melded all the remaining fabric into a new design; what had been a tame Victorian gown was now a halter style dress with a low back. And a rather low front for that matter.

Malfoy scoffed. "Trying to steal all the attention from the rest of us at that panel?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Why not just trot out in your stays?"

"What a wonderful idea!"

Malfoy blanched. "I-"

"Another word from you and I'll lower the neckline," she warned. "Well?"

"…did it meld everything you were wearing?"

"Hm?"

"You were wearing stockings and bloomers before…and now you're…" Malfoy swallowed. "Not…did it meld… _everything_?"

Every wizard's eyes in the vicinity were on her then.

"Does it matter?" she asked too innocently.

A muscle ticked in Malfoy's jaw. "No."

She shrugged a bare shoulder. "Then it doesn't matter." She began to sashay away when she caught sight of Orion.

"Orion!"

"…W-walburga…"

What the devil was she playing at?

"Orion!" She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into what turned out to be her dueling station. It was bedecked in ribbons and other girlish odds and ends. She charmed the space for silence and magicked the privacy curtain closed.

"Orion," she near-gasped in delight.

He stared.

She giggled almost giddily as she took the flowers from him and breathed them in. "Lovely, thank you."

"…Right…er…Walburga? It's…it's come to my attention that a rumor-"

"O yes, yes, yes. It seems as though your reputation has worked wonders for me!"

He stared. "Wot?"

She giggled once more. "In a moment you will understand why this is so hilarious."

He truly doubted that.

She beamed. "I am no longer 'frigid' and this is considered normal behavior for you."

"…"

"O Orion, I have had more attention these past few days than the past 15 years! I'm no longer 'off limits' as it were. You've made me approachable." She threw her arms around him and rested herself against him. He stroked her hair even as he was bewildered by all her chattering.

What in the seven Hells was happening?

She looked up at him and grinned. "And everyone knows your habits." She toyed with his cravat, eyes sparkling with a mischief he'd never known. "So you see…you and I can be enamored with one another for a month or so but still have wandering eyes. And then you can leave me. Your family can pursue your courtship with Leonora. I'll have plenty of sympathy and interest as I go into the final rounds of the tournament. And we'll both achieve what we want. O it's so perfect."

He swore vehemently and not even in a coherent fashion—simply linking expletives in no particular subject-verb order.

She shushed him and splayed her hands playfully against his chest. "I know, I know, dear. It puts you in a spot." She traced her hand against his jaw and his heart nearly stopped. "I know you and your family are trying to win over the Selwyns. Think of it like a play. A tragedy. It's not like we're courting officially. Neither of our families have given their consent into us being together so it's all rather scandalous and ill thought out and doomed to fail. Which makes it romantic but stupid. Like those books you read."

"W-w-wot?" His brain was trying to make sense of all the strange things she was telling him. A difficult feat when she kept touching him in ways that made his flesh tingle.

"Just a month of play-acting. We both like kissing. So I don't think that will be a problem for us. And you are still the best that I've known thus far. Not that I'm particularly experienced, but I will say I've now gotten some better appreciation for the skill-"

"Wot?" he growled. She'd kissed someone else?! In the brief span they'd been apart? Who?

The curtain pulled back and Malfoy mouthed something at them.

She turned the silencing charm off.

"We're needed," Abraxas stated bluntly. "The interview's about to begin."

"Of course. Of course." She stood up on her toes, pulled Orion down towards her, and kissed him deeply.

Two months ago, she had not been able to kiss like that.

And he couldn't even properly appreciate it because it meant…

It meant there'd been others.

There'd been others.

She curled her fingers into his hair behind his ears.

There had been others since him…

There were several catcalls from passing duelists.

Her lips curved into a smile as she realized they had others' attentions on them.

Which was her plan.

Just as she wanted.

"I will see you after." Her silver eyes sparkled.

Effectively stunned and helplessly jealous, Orion watched her go until Malfoy closed the curtain on him.

* * *

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